


nothing is good, but at least it was interesting

by cantheysuffer



Series: who needs true love, as long as you love me truly? [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hipsters, Asexual Loki, Fluff and Angst, I Feel Like I Should Apologize to Judith Butler, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Masturbation, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Postmodern Theory, Slow Build, Things Don't Work Out For Fandral, Thor is Out of His Element
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantheysuffer/pseuds/cantheysuffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Thor is in his Masters and Loki is a hipster barista whose politics are so obscure you've probably never heard of them.</i><br/> <br/>“What do you want?” Loki calls out.</p><p>“In life or to drink?” Thor says. It earns him a laugh.</p><p>“To drink, for starters. We can get to the rest later.”</p><p>Thor’s cheeks flush with heat and the ear to ear grin is back, the one he had two days ago when he first thought he saw a Starbucks. Their banter is already familiar, the one place the rest of the world now rotates around. It’s all so dangerously fragile. So much invested in so little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> If you are looking for spot on Thor characterization, this is unfortunately not that fic. I spend a lot more time exploring Thor being vulnerable because I don't often see that side of him and that's what really does it for me. Thor's relationship with Loki in this fic is intended to be both the thing that makes Thor vulnerable and strong, wary but reckless. I love complexity and contradictions, made stranger by brief moments of fluff, and so that's what you'll find here.

Thor Odinson's heart leaps at the familiar Starbucks sign. Sure, this one is weathered, and the windows of the store are blacked out and he's only assuming it's open because he just watched someone else walk in and they haven't come out yet, but then again it could be because they're already dead, but it's a Starbucks sign and everything is right in his miniscule world again. A world that has recently become unrecognizable. It is bearable now against the light of the sign that promises corporate drudgery with decent coffee, just like the one back home. Thor trudges across the street with an ear to ear grin. 

It is not like the Starbucks back home. 

Something feral and electric accosts his ears from an invisible stereo that should be blaring family-appropriate music. The comfy chairs are covered in worn velvet instead of the usual 'is it leather?' plastic brown sheen. The walls are collaged with amateur posters with big block letters and enough exclamation marks to give Thor a headache. Zine print outs. All the benefits of using organic tampons. The writing is incomprehensibly small and Thor has to put his nose up to the wall to read it. He does it more out of disbelief than an investment in knowledge. 

“It's not a library,” A cold voice startles him. A man behind the cash register is staring at him with narrow eyes and a haughty expression that is somehow simultaneously bored. The stranger rolls his eyes and slides his attention over to the only person in line. Thor would peg him as a barista, but he's missing the familiar green smock. In its place is a cardigan covered by a checkered scarf. 

Thor stands in line. The 'barista' goes off to make whatever the 'usual' is of the person in front of Thor. Along with the green smock he's also missing a name tag. No one else appears to be working. It's three in the afternoon, two blocks from a university campus, and there are only two other people in the 'Starbucks.' Everything Thor thinks now comes with quotation marks to emphasize how little he trusts these words. How is this place so 'dead?'

The 'barista' reappears with a paper cup filled with something caramel coloured and steaming. Scribbled on the side in black marker are the words 'carnists, right?' instead of a name. The customer in front of Thor looks at it, glances at Thor, and laughs. 

“Is this actually a Starbucks?” Thor says when it's his turn. 

“Sure, whatever you want. What are you ordering?” The 'barista' says. His eyes are already darting away, made more obvious by the black liner that surrounds them. The eyeliner makes the green irises stand out like acid in old tv-cartoons. 

“I'll get the 'usual.'” Thor winks, like it's some secret they're both in on.

The 'barista' raises a single perfectly plucked eyebrow and no other muscles on his face move. His eyebrow is so smooth it was probably drawn on with a fucking sharpie. 

“Whatever she got, the person in front of me,” Thor explains.

“Zhe.”

“What?” Thor thinks he misheard him. 

“Whatever zhe got,” the 'barista' rolls his eyes again and walks away to make the drink. 

Thor pays for whatever it is, holding back his words. His usual cocky demeanour is deflating. The next set might get this guy to prick it with a pin and then it's all over. This is the closest he's come to another person since he moved into his single room apartment. His Masters classes don't start for a week and there is no guarantee he'll like any of his peers. Or that they'll like him. He got along with everyone back home, but what if it's different this time? What if like the Starbucks, things are not how they're supposed to be?

Thor grabs the drink and slumps into a couch in the corner of the coffee shop. Biding his time, he tells himself. 

He pulls a book out of his bag and opens it in his lap. His eyes stare at the page, moving without taking anything in. Drifting back and forth to give the illusion that he's reading. His fingers are tense on the arm rests, aching to go back to the wall. To memorize every absurd thing he sees so he'll have a story to tell his friends, or the next one he makes. He can't live in the moment, be here reading his book and drinking whatever the 'barista' made him. He's already somewhere else, deciding how the story will start. How he'll describe this strange man. What details are unnecessary clutter. What parts he can scrap. 

The 'barista' crosses the room and slides into a couch in the other corner of the cafe. Thor almost misses it with his eyes moving back and forth over the page, but he hears him. 

“Aren't you working?” Thor asks as he look up.

The single eyebrow arch again. Thor can't take it back, too late, his words are out in the world. Even if the reaction looks perfect, poised as if he's a model posing for a villains themed photo shoot Thor didn't know was happening, he doesn't want it to be this way. Thor wants to be on a different side of that reaction. Not the person that causes it, but the one this guy is laughing with after. Thor's hands are clammy. 

Thor shrugs, “Maybe you're not, you're not wearing a name tag.” He tries to make it sound logical.

“You were looking for my name.” It's flat, a statement. Heat rises on Thor's neck. Maybe his cheeks too.

“Yeah, I was,” Thor says boldly. 

The 'barista' seems to enjoy this. He gets off his couch and crosses the room. 

“It's Loki,” he says as he slides into the couch across from Thor. 

“Thor,” Thor tells him. 

“You can put that away now Thor,” Loki says, his green eyes darting to the book open in Thor's lap. It's not clearly a demand or a suggestion, but Thor does it anyways. 

Loki doesn't say anything after that, just sits there. His entire body is still. His pupils do not move from being locked on Thor's face. Thor looks away once, shifting uncomfortably. When he looks back Loki is still sitting, staring. 

When Thor can't take it any longer he grabs the drink beside him and takes a deep sip. “Wow, this is great, what is it?” Thor grins. 

Loki takes a few moments to respond. He's still watching Thor, not interested in getting involved until the last possible second. Thor's almost worried he didn't hear him. 

“It's an almond milk latte,” Loki says eventually. His voice is as empty as his face, giving away nothing. 

“Huh, how do you get milk from almonds?” 

The eyebrow arch again. “Kidding!” Thor says quickly. 

Loki laughs, but it might be at Thor. Still, it's a new reaction. Loki's face lights up with a happiness that doesn't reach his eyes. Those are unquestionably dead. 

“Why are you here Thor?” Loki asks, leaning forward. 

“Here, like in the... Starbucks?” Thor hesitates. 

“Whatever you like.”

“How can it be whatever I like? You asked the question.” Thor frowns. 

“The question isn't what I'm interested in.” Loki's voice draws out, slower, like he's said this a million times before. If so, he's not gotten any better at explaining it in all the trial runs that have led up to this moment. “Just answer it.” His voice is calm, but this time it's clearly a demand. 

“It looked familiar,” Thor admits. He bites his bottom lip, not sure what Loki expects to hear. What he wants to hear. “And nothing is familiar here. The university doesn't have a frat. I can't join the sports team because I'm in my Masters.” 

“What does it mean to you, that it's not familiar?” Loki says. 

Thor stares at him and furrows his eyebrows. Anyone else would have asked him what he was doing his Masters in. Might have said that sounds rough. Instead Loki said that and Thor feels himself bristling inside, uncomfortable in his own skin. “What are you, a psychologist?” Thor laughs. It's not a happy sound. 

“If you're going to use the word familiar when you talk to me, I'd like to know what you think it means.”

“It means familiar. It's got a dictionary definition you can look up. I'm not... making up some random meaning.” Thor's voice rises. 

Loki doesn't budge. “Define it.”

“Fine, whatever.” Thor scowls. “Something I'm used to.” 

Loki hasn't reacted. That damn silence makes Thor uncomfortable, burning to blurt out the next thing he's thinking just to fill it. “Familiar is an expected routine. Nothing out of place from how I remember it.” The words are coming easier now that he's started. “That's comforting because no matter how much everything else changes, that familiar thing doesn't and I know it's going to be okay because it's like a light in a storm.”

“People used to put lights on the sides of cliffs during particularly bad storms. In the morning they'd go out and see if they caught any shipwrecks.” Loki pauses. “They probably still do it now,” he adds thoughtfully.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Thor is completely taken aback, the novelty of being polite lost on him now.

“I used to have a professor that when you asked him what a story meant, he would just repeat the story again.”

“Okay...” Thor's exasperated, trying to make sense of why this is so ridiculous. Why his skin feels like it's crawling. “but you asked me what familiar meant.”

“Words are different,” is all Loki says.

“Can you explain that to me?” Thor says with a rough sigh, running a hand back through his long blonde hair.

“Words are meant for me. Familiar can mean a demon that obeys a sorcerer or a witch, usually in the form of a cat. Or a person rendering religious services. So you see, I had to ask,” Loki says. Thor doesn't see anything.

“Is that what you mean when you say familiar?” He laughs in disbelief. 

Loki pauses thoughtfully. “Yes.” He doesn't indicate which one. Thor assumes he means the first option. He's turning out to be that kind of person. Thor bets his brain is a box of cats. No neurons, no synapses. Just cats. 

“What about stories, who are they meant for?” Thor asks, no longer self conscious. In his university lectures he used to feel stupid when he asked a question. If you're thinking it, there's at least three other people who are as well and they're too afraid to ask it. By asking the question, you're really doing everyone a favour. Someone once said that to Thor to get him to loosen up. He doesn't remember who, just that it didn't work. Also, there are no stupid questions. That one probably doesn't work for anyone. Now Thor isn't worried about looking stupid. It's just him and Loki and Loki's leaning in and devouring every word. Thor doesn't know what he's doing with them when he devours them, what he thinks about them because that crazy face is absolutely empty, but he's eating them up. He's listening and it's strangely intimate. 

“Most people say stories are for me, the audience, but they're lying. They're really for you - the person telling them,” Loki says.

“So... you told me about the lighthouse for yourself.” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Loki shrugs. “Some things you have to say, even if no one understands them.” Thor gets that, or at least the part about being misunderstood. The more they talk, the less Thor feels like he understands. They're going in circles and somehow getting lost while doing it. 

“Did you understand what I said? Was it good?” Thor asks. The words are out before he can stop them or even realize he means them, those self-denigrating words that are begging to be acknowledged. 

“Nothing is good Thor,” Loki smiles as he pats Thor on the arm. “but it was interesting.” 

Loki stands up from the couch.

“What does interesting mean?” Thor asks. 

“That it was an invitation.” Loki pauses, then smirks. “One I'm likely to accept.”

“Then why are you leaving?” Thor can't help that it comes out raw.

“I'm working,” Loki says. That's not it, but it's smoke between them as Loki vanishes behind the counter. Gone as if he was never there. As if the entire conversation hadn't happened, but it had. Thor feels the aftereffects of it jagged and sharp beneath his skin. The ghost of Loki's hand on his arm. 

Thor pulls out his book, determined to read this time. His eyes are dead weights on the paper. They drag along. He repeats the words he's reading in his mind but they don't make any sense. They are just sounds without meaning. 

After a few failed minutes Thor shoves the book back into his bag and stands up. He gets a head-rush from moving so quickly, but it's what he sees that makes him shaky on his feet. Loki's leaning over the counter and talking to a customer. He's laughing softly at something that was said. The laughter is easier than it was with Thor, more real. Light and silver. Genuine. 

Thor leaves in a hurry. He doesn't wave or say goodbye.

He makes it two blocks before he realizes he forgot his almond milk latte on the table. He only took one sip, the one when Loki was staring at him. He doesn't go back to get it. He falls asleep trying to remember what it tasted like, only remembering the echo of himself saying it was great.


	2. Medusa

Thor's ready to never go into that whatever it is again, but two days later he finds himself on the same street and his resolve crumbles. The story can't end that way. 

He walks inside and marches up to the cash. Loki's washing a blender in the sink. All other staff are mysteriously absent again. A running theme of their interactions now. Thor clears his throat. Loki glances over his shoulder.

“What do you want?” Loki calls out.

“In life or to drink?” Thor says. It earns him a laugh. 

“To drink, for starters. We can get to the rest later.” 

Thor's cheeks flush with heat and the ear to ear grin is back, the one he had two days ago when he first thought he saw a Starbucks. Their banter is already familiar, the one place the rest of the world now rotates around. It's all so dangerously fragile. So much invested in so little. 

“The usual,” Thor jokes.

“Of course, why do I even ask anymore?” Loki plays along. 

He approaches the cash register where Thor is standing, sharpie poised in his fingers like it's a smouldering cigarette ready to take a drag from. 

“What's your number?” Loki asks. 

Not can I have it, but what is it. Thor tells him quickly. 

The last digits are molasses on his tongue, rolling out thick and slow when he realizes Loki has started writing down the number on a paper cup in the spot where the customer's name should go. 

Loki leans across the counter separating them, resting his hand on top of Thor's. His touch is comfortably warm from washing the blender. “So if you forget your drink again, someone knows how to get in touch with you to return it,” Loki grins condescendingly. 

Thor stands there stunned. “Like a dog's tag?” Thor calls out as Loki goes to make the drink.

“Exactly.” Loki laughs. Lighter, more heady, caught off guard by the sudden humour. 

Thor leans casually against the counter while he waits, fingers stroking over the fake wood finish. 

“Go sit down, I'll bring it to you.” Loki raises his voice so Thor can hear him over the machine. 

Thor collapses into the same couch by the corner, leaving his book in his bag this time. He scans the walls confidently. 

Lonely but fabulous, someone wrote in lipstick over a minimalist poster that only has a date and location on it. There is no explanation for what will happen at the time and place, but it was seven years ago so Thor has no way of finding out. He tilts his head back as he scans up the walls. The night sky from two years ago last month is drawn in chalk on the ceiling. It's dated but unsigned. “Wow...” Thor breathes out softly. 

“It's like someone ripped out their heart and dissected it on the ceiling for you, isn't it?” Loki says as he approaches with Thor's drink. 

“It's a star chart.” The breathy awe is still wrapped around Thor's voice, but the confusion is bringing him down. Back to this moment where the star chart is just outdated knowledge. Two years ago. Not present, not hip. Not worth anything. If it was a thousand years ago, well then it might be something. 

“Exactly.”

Loki places the drink on the table next to Thor. The lid is off to leave space for the mountain of whipped cream dusted in cocoa. 

“That's not my usual.” Thor isn't sure what to make of it.

“Thought I'd give you more incentive to finish it this time,” Loki tells him. 

“Thank you,” Thor says earnestly. 

He picks up the drink and unrolls his tongue, taking a dollop of whipped cream into his mouth. He recognizes the almond taste immediately. It's different. Creamier. Better.

“You're really messy,” Loki says. His voice is matter of fact, simple. Effortless. Not at all in the same tone as his movements when Loki bends down and wipes the whipped cream off the tip of Thor's nose with his index finger. 

Loki sticks the finger in his mouth. His lips make an obscene popping sound around it. Loki slips his finger out slowly, lips pulled back to reveal his teeth are gripping his finger as he does so. Thor bites his own bottom lip. 

“On the house, by the way,” Loki says calmly. 

“The show or the drink?” Thor asks. His eyes widen at what he just said. “Sorry, I didn't-” 

“Both,” Loki interrupts him. Thor's eyes get even wider. 

Loki walks back to the counter, laughing the whole way. 

Thor's jaw drops. One moment Loki's there, practically fucking his mouth with his own finger, and then he's not. No explanation, just that laugh that grates Thor's skin.

Thor sips his drink in silence, his spare hand resting between his spread legs to hide his growing hard on from sight. If he rubs into the back of his wrist for just a little friction no one is the wiser. 

Thor waits until the bulge in his pants recedes before he stands up. Once again Loki's talking to a customer at the counter. He isn't laughing this time. 

Loki tucks his hand into a fist and rests his head on it, lips pursed and perfect eyebrows bunched up in the centre. “No, we do not sell anything with egg in it.” His voice comes out aggravatingly slow.

The customer says something Thor can't hear. “Well I don't care, don't buy it then.” Loki rolls his eyes. 

Thor takes a step closer. “Well isn't this a Starbucks?” The customer asks. “What the fuck do you think it is?” Loki says calmly. Thor notices he still has yet to answer the very question that's been branded into his own mind. The customer notices too. “Watch your mouth you little -”

Thor's inches away from clamping his hand down on the other customer's shoulder when Loki catches his eye and gives the tersest shake of his head. Thor freezes. 

“Bye Thor,” Loki interrupts the customer to look over their head. He blows Thor a kiss. Thor pretends to catch and pocket it. Loki grins.

Thor doesn't want to leave, but Loki holds up his hand and trickles his fingers in a delicate wave. Thor's jaw and shoulders set stiff as he leaves the store, this time with his drink. 

That night Thor grabs for the cold latte on his bedside table while he's masturbating, his body screaming to get the taste of Loki on his tongue. Thor's jacking himself off slow and uneven when he turns the cup. Underneath his own phone number a heart is scribbled in black sharpie. Thor stares at it until long after his dick goes soft in his hand.

-

Thor wakes up the next morning to a text on his phone from an unknown number. It's only sixteen minutes old. 'Do me a favour, okay?' It says. Thor's eyebrows furrow.

'Who is this?' Thor texts back. 

The phone chirps while he's pulling on his pants. 'No one you know' flashes across the screen.

'How did you get my number then?'

The other person must have an iphone because he can tell that they've read what he sent, but they're not responding. Thor stares at the screen for another minute before shrugging and heading into the shower.

He can't leave it there though. When he's half way through his breakfast Thor grabs his phone and sends another text. 'Well?' he asks. 

'My familiar wrote it down when you were looking the other way' is fired back instantly. 

'Loki?' Thor's heart rate increases in anticipation. 

'Sure, whatever you want.' 

'I do know you though,' Thor types back quickly. 

'As well as you know anyone, but you don't 'know' anyone Thor.' Thor feels his jaw go slack. “Huh,” he says to himself with a slow frown. 

'Okay... what was the favour you wanted?' He texts.

'Tell me a story.' 

Thor bites his bottom lip. 'Alright... if you tell me why I'm doing this.' The text changes to read, but Loki doesn't respond. Thor finishes his breakfast, continuously glancing at his phone out of the corner of his eye.

'I'm uncomfortable. I would like a story,' the phone eventually flashes. Thor's eyebrows arch slowly. 

'Why?' Thor texts back. It's easier to push boundaries over text. He doesn't have to listen to Loki laugh and try and discern what he's laughing at. Spared from picking apart every sound for any sense of meaning meant for him when probably none of it is. He consistently comes up empty handed. Rawer and more vulnerable from the failed attempt. 

'It's morning. So, story?' 

Thor types back that Loki hasn't answered the question, but his finger pauses over the send button. He backspaces until the whole text is deleted. It's an answer, just not the kind he's been led to expect. Loki is uncomfortable in the mornings. Thor smiles softly to himself. 

'Yes, hold on,' Thor texts back to give himself some time. 

He could say anything, be anyone. It's daunting. Suffocating. Every story about himself seems uncool, but not in the hip and awkward way he's suspecting Loki likes. Too uncool for even hipsters. He's also limited by stories about animals because of how Loki's been reacting around what they serve at the 'Starbucks.' He's noticed it, but it's a hazy fog. Unclear. Food, pets, zoos, and so forth are off limits to be safe. 

'So there was once a priestess who served the goddess Athena,' Thor begins. Loki should be familiar with the story, but it's the reinterpretation Thor likes best. 

'She was named Medusa and she lived in Athena's temple. One day Poseidon came to the temple. As soon as he saw Medusa he decided he wanted her. Completely. Like he wanted to possess her so she would worship him.'

'Some people say Poseidon seduced her, but the affection wasn't mutual. Medusa did not want him and he raped her.'

'Athena came to Medusa in the temple afterwards. Even before Medusa had been raped she had been afraid, terrorized by a culture that had depicted her as rape-able. That saw men as invulnerable. Athena was furious about what Poseidon had done, had felt entitled to do. The goddess could not rewrite the past so she gave Medusa a gift: if men wanted to pretend they were invulnerable, Athena would give Medusa the power to freeze them in their lie. The ability to turn a man to stone with a single glance.'

'Athena helped her priestess become a warrior, beautiful in her deadliness,' Thor texts. 'The end.' 

Thor sees the ... on his phone indicating that Loki is replying, but it vanishes. Loki probably deleted the text on his end before sending. Tension gathers in Thor's shoulders.

Thor's on his way out the door when the phone chirps. He pulls it out of his pocket, almost dropping it in his eagerness. 'Thank you,' the screen flashes. The two words seem insignificantly small under the block of text that makes up Thor's story, but they're a story all in their own. 

'Are you working today?' Thor texts back quickly. 

'At one. See you then Thor.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Thor tells is inspired by [this ](http://cantheysuffer.tumblr.com/post/69144553997/note-a-bear-latining-exitpursuedbyaslot) Tumblr post.


	3. Reserved

Thor repeatedly checks his phone throughout the day. He returns to the same text: 'See you then Thor.' The words never change. They are the confidence he once knew, left behind in his old bedroom miles away. Didn't realize he forgot to pack until he laid out his suitcase in his new apartment. In ritual he hung up his shirts according to colour and season. Filled the closet with his belongings, save one. 

He never called home about it. What would his mother have looked for? Did that feeling brood in his old sports trophies? Fester in the sheets of his bed? Or was Thor's confidence stuck in the walls, there long before the room had ever been his? Arrogance invisibly seeping into his head at night while he slept. A stranger's confidence disguising itself as Thor Odinson. Thor taps the phone off with a sigh, finger tracing over the now blank screen. It's not in him anymore, but he knows where to find it. 

Thor walks into the 'Starbucks' promptly at one. He isn't early. Loki didn't ask him to be. 

He hesitates in the doorway, stalled by the sheer number of people in the coffee shop. It's packed to bursting. He can't see an empty seat over the crowd of heads. The electronic rage he's used to crawling across his skin is absent, replaced by the family appropriate drawl he expected on that first day. 

There's a barista Thor's never seen before behind the cash register, complete with green apron and name tag. 'Darcy.' Thor memorizes the name he never expects to repeat. He mentally writes down her delinquent expression, the shadow of an inappropriate joke that has left her very red lips. A shade of ruby lipstick that went out of style with Dorothy's shoes. 

“So what can I get for you?” Loki asks the person in line in front of Thor. He's holding a notepad and sharpie, eyelids drooping with irritation to block out most of his electric green eyes. 

Thor doesn't hear what the customer says. Loki brushes his hair back with the snap of his knuckles, ever falling back into his face. Covering cheekbones sharp enough to cut. 

Loki writes something down and appears next to Thor. “And what do you want?” Loki asks like he doesn't know him, but the purr of his voice is emphasized by the smirk curving at the edge of his lips. 

“My usual,” Thor says, refusing to let go of the one connection he has to this man. This stranger, but that word doesn't sit right, threatening to stop his heart, so he ignores it and opts for the awkward joke that Loki allows him with a reassuring grin. 

“Don't want to try something different?” The grin widens dangerously. 

“Alright, surprise me.”

Loki points to Thor's usual couch in the corner, occupied by a piece of folded cardboard rather than a person. On the table next to the couch is a ceramic mug. The lid is unsmudged, clean white despite the dark liquid inside. 

“Surprise,” Loki leans close to whisper in Thor's ear, warm breath fogging up the right pane of Thor's glasses. 

Loki begins to move on to the next customer. Thor reaches out to grab his wrist, but stops himself from grabbing hold. His thumb numbly traces over the pulse under Loki's palm. 

Loki stills under his touch, provoking Thor with that single eyebrow arch. That perfect gesture that frequently haunts the back of Thor's eyelids. 

“Why is it so busy today?” The words spill out of Thor. Not the words he wanted, but he won't begrudge himself any sound that might keep Loki there a little longer. 

“Weekend. And classes start on Monday,” Loki tells him. When classes start the coffee shop will be like this: full of people that can worm their way into Loki's routine. That snag his interest in all the ways Thor has but could never replicate because it was all a beautiful accident. 

Loki's hand slides out from under Thor's thumb, winding up to settle on his shoulder for an instant. “Go have your drink. Sit in your usual spot.” Loki allows him the lies that cause the frown Thor didn't know he was wearing to sink away. Loki drums his fingers along Thor's shoulder and then he's gone. His touch lingers longer than he ever does, paralysing the skin it danced over. 

Thor walks towards the couch in a trance, eyes darting frantically over the makeshift cardboard sign that Loki must have cut from the back of a package box. The back of it is stamped with a green 'fragile' symbol. In black sharpie the front says 'RESERVED.' In smaller letters, tucked to the right corner, is a single sentence: 'gtfo if u r not thor. xoxox.'

Thor's fingers trail gently over the cardboard sign as he moves it onto the table and sinks into the chair. His eyes trace back and forth over the scratchy patterns of hugs and kisses, the superficial details to tell the friends he still hasn't made yet. Or maybe he's made one. Thor doesn't know what to call Loki, even now as he finds himself guided into another scenario of Loki's design. Perhaps that's the point. No end in sight. Just this maze and every new moment is a twist, turning fast enough to lose sight of the path he just came down. 

There's a way out, the door, but Thor doesn't take it. The ceramic mug confines him comfortably to the coffee shop. Domestic chains. He sips it slowly. Multiple shots of espresso, just barely sweetened. 

Once again Thor opens a book in his lap, but he doesn't pretend he's reading it this time. The words are far from his mind, which at the moment trails Loki across the 'Starbucks.' Loki who never stops or slows down as he moves. Gliding between making a drink by the back machine to arguing with a customer with only the condescending twitch of his eyebrow out of place. Thor only knows it's an argument because the customer's face is going red. This seems to be the usual routine because Darcy just laughs and strikes another mark on the chalkboard behind the counter that should display the drinks. Instead it seems to be a running tally of all the people Loki has pissed off since who knows when. The numbers are in the hundreds. Is Loki the kind of person that there can only be one of for every group? That one that prompts the affectionate eyerolls and the exasperated, “well, he's our asshole.”

An hour passes, maybe two. Loki consumes Thor's time without the slightest of efforts on his part. The inactivity of sitting still combined with the caffeine raging through Thor's system is explosive. His pupils are blown and wide. He's raring to go when Loki appears by the couch. 

“I'm on break,” is all Loki says. 

Loki grabs the cardboard reserved sign from the table and slips it onto the couch, between Thor's spread legs. Hand lingering an inch short of Thor's thigh. He's gone for the front door and Thor follows after him, heart pounding with the gestures that never make contact. The positioning of the reserved sign as Loki steals five minutes for them, maybe ten, until Thor is back to the couch Loki has allowed him. 

Loki pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it deftly. He leans back against the hard brick of the storefront as he takes a drag. He's said nothing. Thor is silent, waiting for his next move, scanning his body for any signs about what he's to do next. The muscles in Loki's body are smooth and relaxed, either calmed by Thor's presence or entirely indifferent to it. 

Loki holds out his hand to offer Thor the cigarette as he exhales. Their eyes lock through the smoke. 

Thor bypasses the offered cigarette, the caffeine screaming in his body as he grabs Loki's face with both of his hands and rams their lips together in a damaging kiss. Every pent up moment has led to this. Every gesture Thor didn't know how to return because he was terrified of disturbing the fragility of what Loki has built, that he has walked in the shadow of. Thor is through being guided, of wearing his discomfort about this city around Loki. It's shackled him, made him another person. Someone timid. Not the person entire stadiums erupted into ritual chanting for, the once star athlete. A thrill seeker that ventured into the unknown for the rush and has been hiding on the sidelines ever since. 

He shoves Loki roughly back into the wall, kissing him frantically. He tastes like ash and death, but underneath that is layers of coffee. Thick and sweet and Thor's tongue lashes against Loki's teeth. 

Thor freezes, tongue still in Loki's mouth, when he hears the laughter. That maddening sound that now surrounds him, shaking his lips with the vibrations of it. 

It gets louder. Thor can feel the resistance, Loki's lips pulling back to bare his teeth as he laughs. 

Thor shrinks back. His hands slip from Loki's face and he takes a step backwards. The concrete distance grows between them and Thor's eyes are affixed to his shoes. 

“Sorry,” Loki says. He doesn't sound it. The word comes out choked in the next laugh, bleeding into what is chaos to Thor's ears. 

Every sexual encounter Thor's had prepares him to drag his eyes back up, to stand in the demolition of his confidence and shake it off. It's just a mistake. Don't get back on the horse - tell the horse you understand they don't want to be ridden. “No, I'm sorry... I thought you were interested in me. I must have misread the situation,” Thor says. He can salvage this. They can have the friendship he always wanted from Loki. Anything at all is fine.

“You didn't misread.”

Thor exhales sharply. “Then... what? I don't understand.” 

Loki leans back into the wall comfortably, either convinced Thor's confusion will root him to the spot or he doesn't care about what happens to his audience. Loki's face gives nothing away. His words are even worse. “I've been told I'm inappropriate, at times.” It explains nothing. The laughter trailing between his words is terrible. 

“You think that was inappropriate?” Thor's not denying it, but that's not the word he would use. 

“Supposedly when someone kisses you you're either supposed to like it, or not. One or the other. Two options.” Loki lifts a finger and then another, holding them out in a peace sign to emphasize the 'two.' His other hand is curved beneath his jaw, cradling the cigarette he's taking another drag from. “You react in one of two ways.”

“And you didn't feel either of those, did you?” Thor edges him on, spurred by the possibility that this is not about him. He's heard of people not being sexually attracted to other people before. Either just not interested or actually really really disinterested. This is different, new to him. 

“I like... that I don't like it. I find it funny actually,” Loki admits with a smile. 

“Explain it to me,” Thor says before he can stop himself. 

He leans against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Loki. The fabric of their shirts brushing up against each other is not electric this time, barely even registering as friction. Loki's fingers snake up to Thor's hair, running through it. Everything shifts, again.

“The things I've read, the things I've been told. Fireworks. Butterflies.” Loki takes another drag, shrugging. “It's like... a high. To see the lie that's been shoved down your throat and turn it into a weapon because you know it's nothing while everyone else thinks its sacred. Or maybe it is for them, but it's not for me.” Loki's hand bunches in Thor's hair and trails across his jawline. “It's just a fun little game.” 

“So... you enjoy it?” Thor asks as Loki's finger traces down his jaw and rubs under his bottom lip. 

“Sometimes,” Loki says through the smoke.

“So it was alright that I kissed you?” Thor tries to get him to confirm it, to say something solid and real for once. Loki's laughter still haunts him as Thor drags his bottom lip through his teeth, grazing the side of Loki's finger. Inches from his lips and he's still not even sure if Loki's gay. Or queer. Or interested in him at all. It's starting to dawn on Thor that Loki might not be interested in anyone. Therein lies the joke. That dark humour. The one reassurance in sexuality is that the other person likes you. They want you. Loki strips all of that away. 

“You can do it whenever you like.” Loki takes another drag, slow and lips teasing out the cigarette like he's sucking on it. “You can do whatever you like.” Their eyes lock again. “I'll tell you when I don't to play anymore. But there is one rule: no expectations. Understand?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

Loki snuffs out his cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “My break's over.” He pauses in the doorway. “The mug you were drinking from... I wouldn't let that out of your sight.”

“And why not?” 

“I think it's one of those bottomless mugs. The kind that if you go to the cash, they'll just refill so you don't have to pay for them. I didn't know you could still get those anymore,” Loki says evenly. 

“Are you trying to buy me with free coffee? Is this how people who aren't sexually attracted to you flirt?” Thor laughs. Once again the words burn his mouth, always too quick for his brain to filter. He winces.

“If I had known you came this cheap, I would have already taken you home.” Loki takes a step backwards, leaning into Thor's personal space. “But this is like our third date. I like to take things slow,” he purrs.

“Like a glacier?” 

“I am going to edge you so hard, your dick is going to feel like one.” Loki laughs when Thor's face goes red. Thor joins him this time. 

“So, coming?” Loki's back to hovering in the doorway. Seconds away from going to work. Vanishing behind the counter. So close, but for all its worth a figment as he becomes unreachable. 

“When are you done?”

“Ten.” 

“What am I supposed to do for like seven hours?”

Loki shrugs. “Who told you to come in this early?”

“You,” Thor laughs.

“Ever been curious to try everything on the menu?”

“I am going to be up for like three days if I have that much caffeine,” Thor groans.

“Hm,” Loki hums noncommittally. 

Loki disappears back into the 'Starbucks.' He pushes the door as he passes it, leaving it open just enough for Thor to slip inside and follow should he choose.


	4. Valhalla

Thor follows Loki into the 'Starbucks' without a word. He's dedicated to see this through to the end, whatever that may be. 

Loki waves once and vanishes into the back room. Thor stares after him, eyes boring into the closed door. After a minute of inactivity Thor grabs the mug from where he left it on the table and gets into the customer line. 

“Yeah?” Darcy says expectantly when it's his turn. Thor smirks to himself, amused by the routinely substandard customer service. Loki's job is probably secure. 

He places the mug on the counter. “Um, whatever you'd recommend,” he says with a smile that isn't returned. 

Darcy glances from the mug to Thor once, then twice. “Alright,” she says. 

Her back is to Thor as she makes the drink, returning with it a few minutes later full of something toffee coloured and steaming. 

Thor pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open. He doesn't believe Loki for a second about the mug. “What do I owe you?” 

“You don't owe me anything.” Darcy winks as she pushes the drink towards him. 

“Thanks,” Thor says slowly, confused by how easily his caffeine needs have been met since moving to town. It's usually him that's buying someone a drink or offering to cover the next round, if only out of casual friendliness. There is nothing friendly about these encounters. Loki's presence sets him on edge, mimicking the adrenaline spike he used to get from the field. 

“What is it, by the way?” Thor asks as he picks up the mug.

“Speciality. It's called Valhalla.” 

Thor's pupils dilate of their own accord. “Did Loki-”

“Mhmm,” Darcy interrupts him with a smug smile. 

“What did he-”

“You know, for a guy getting free stuff, you sure ask a lot of questions.”

“Anything wrong?” Loki asks as he approaches them. There when he was not the moment before, the backroom door swinging shut as an afterthought. 

“Your boyfriend was just asking what time you're off so he can blow you for the drink, as a thank you,” Darcy says quickly. 

Loki arches an eyebrow. “That's very unlikely. He already knows I finish at ten.” He glances once at Thor before retreating to the sink and a pile of blenders Darcy has let collect. 

“He's not my boyfriend,” Thor corrects her when they're alone. Perhaps Loki is listening. His back gives nothing away. 

“Sucks for you,” Darcy says with a shrug. “Anyways, I don't know what kind of precedent Loki sets, but sometimes some of us work here and you're completely holding up the line.” Darcy shoos him away with a demeaning smile. 

Thor retreats to his couch, moving the reserved sign back to the table. He kicks his feet up on the armrest. True to its name, the drink is some kind of heaven. Caramel, toffee, and mounds of sugar coat every burst of caffeine. 

Thor finishes the only book in his bag in an hour. He skims the pages, skipping the sections that can't handle his attention. That happens to be most of the book. 

He pulls out his cellphone to kill time. He mulls over the contact list, eyes dragging dangerously over the numbers of friends he hasn't called since moving. Busy unpacking, he told them. Getting to know the town. Figure out where everything is. He hasn't admitted the grocery store and the 'Starbucks' are the only places he's been to. He'll throw a house party once he completely moves in, he'd told Sif. The words hang over him. He can't imagine any of them here. Thor goes back to the contact list and pulls up Loki's number. 'When's your next break?' he texts.

Loki's phone chirps from across the coffee shop. Thor watches as Loki goes stiff in the middle of making a drink. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and stares at the screen. Loki glances over at Thor, their eyes connecting across the store. Loki rolls his eyes and puts the phone back into his pocket without responding. 

'Should you really have that on when you're working?' Thor texts him again. 

Loki sighs when the phone announces the text. His eyebrows are already knotted before he even reads the screen. He disappears into the back room without a word or glance in Thor's direction. Thor watches the door slam closed. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, debating going after him. 

Loki comes out of the back room a minute later with a pile of books. He drops them on the table in front of Thor. “Occupy yourself, okay?” Loki says. His face is unreadable. 

Thor glances over the books, searching for the meaning behind the gesture. The books aren't new. Well worn. Scuffed pages. Bent covers. One has a library bar code on it. “These yours?” Thor asks. 

“No, I just robbed a bookstore in the last minute.” 

“Have you read all of them?” Thor asks, picking up the first book to flip through it. 

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Thor exhales sharply. He picks up another book to glance at the table of contents. “That's a lot of books.”

“It's like five. Haven't you read five books in your life Thor?” Even with the flat tone the words come out impatient and chiding. 

“Yeah, but I mean I didn't carry them around with me. I didn't know anyone that actually read. Like really read because they wanted to.” Thor can't imagine what he's going to do with someone else's books after not even reading his own. Maybe there's a table somewhere that's wobbly. 

Loki doesn't say anything. He's probably thinking, even though nothing he does gives that away. The silence bites into Thor. He starts talking again, just to break it. “It's really cool, that you read.”

Loki arches an eyebrow. That ever perfect, gut wrenching, gesture. “You probably don't do it to be cool, so you probably don't care if it's cool,” Thor says quickly. He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Telling himself that embarrassment is uncharacteristic of him doesn't help. It only gets worse.

“No, I don't,” Loki says gently. “But it's still interesting to see what you think.” 

Thor's eyebrows furrow. “I didn't say what I think.” 

“Sure, whatever you like,” Loki says. 

Loki's torso tilts, announcing his intention to turn around and walk away. The repetition of his usual tragic departure, only tolerable because it gives Thor a great view of his ass. Thor stands up and grabs Loki's neck, fingers clumsily wrenching into Loki's hair. He kisses Loki roughly. Loki allows it, but he doesn't reciprocate. He's stiff in Thor's grasp. 

“Whatever I like,” Thor pants out against Loki's lips.

“Hrm,” Loki hums thoughtfully. 

Loki pecks Thor once on the lips, brisk and quick. He slips out of Thor's grasp and walks back to the counter. “Stop texting me,” he calls over his shoulder.

Thor sinks back into his couch with a sigh. His couch. He allows himself one secret smirk of confidence.

Thor picks up one of the books that Loki left for him. He glances over his shoulder. Loki isn't watching. Thor flips through the book reverently. His eyes entirely miss the text itself, searching instead for every paper snag where someone once dog-eared the page and couldn't smooth it back out properly. His heart stutters on every comment in the margins and scribbled underline. The awkward little stars for emphasis. The multiple exclamation points don't follow a coherent system. Thor's fingers trace over the indentations left behind by an over eager pen. As he first noticed, they are worn. Well read. Does Loki usually spend his breaks reading, when Thor isn't around? Sitting on a couch like a customer as he sips coffee. Or does he stand out front, holding a book with one hand as he smokes with the other? 

Thor manages to get through the rest of Loki's shift, priding himself on his new-found and completely unrepeatable patience made possible by two more coffees. Each time he empties his mug Loki is mysteriously not on cash. His heart is hammering by the time Loki grabs the reserved sign to tuck it behind the counter. Loud enough that Loki can surely hear it. 

“Closing time,” Loki says from the door. 

Thor gets up, book still in his hand. He hovers by the stack he has only sifted through. “Leave them. Or borrow that one if you like,” Loki says. His hand is still on the doorknob. 

Thor smiles in thanks, tucking the book into his bag. In a week he can bring it back to Loki. In a week he can be here again. 

Thor follows Loki out the door. Loki locks the front door and pockets the key. 

“They trust you to lock up?” Thor says, probing for conversation.

“Hrm? Oh, yes.” Loki smiles to himself. 

“So where are we going?” Thor asks. 

“We?” Loki feigns confusion. 

“You had me wait all day for you to finish work,” Thor says slowly, stumbling over the words as he tries to piece together where he went wrong. He can't find it. 

“No expectations,” Loki reminds him. 

“Ah,” Thor frowns. He's silent for a moment. “Okay let's start again. You're here. I'm here. Let's go somewhere, okay?” It sounds childish even to his ears, but his confidence is bolstering. Making up time for all the ways Loki is ahead of him in showing interest. The caffeine makes him more like himself, that person who didn't really understand fear or nerves before.

“Where?” 

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Whatever you want,” Thor says, eager to appease. 

“Alright, come on then,” Loki says. He starts walking without waiting for Thor. 

Thor runs for a few steps to keep pace with Loki. 

They turn a corner and head left down an unfamiliar street. Thor is already lost. “Where are we going?” he asks. 

“Not far,” Loki says. 

“That didn't answer the question,” Thor laughs.

“Wasn't meant to.”

“Okay Mr. Mysterious,” Thor teases.

“Doctor Mysterious.” 

“What?”

“A doctor can double as an expert in the field and as a super villain.”

“Would you really want to be the villain?” Thor laughs.

Loki shrugs, “Why not? Someone has to be.”

“Not necessarily. If everyone was a little kinder, you know, like pay it forward -” Thor pauses as he catches Loki's expression in the lamplight, laughing silently at him. 

Thor shoves Loki playfully. Their shoulders connect roughly and Loki's eyes snap up. Thor's breath snags. 

“Wouldn't be evil?” Loki purrs in an unreadable voice. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“If there wasn't evil, weren't any villains, we would invent them Thor,” Loki tells him.

“I don't think so,”

“Suit yourself, captain optimist.” 

“I know you're making fun of me, but I quite like that,” Thor says smugly.

“Oh yes, you should. With all your powers of poor observation and pulling one over on yourself all the time. Captain optimist! How does that go... it's a bird, it's a plane, no it's someone hiding from reality!” Loki laughs coldly. 

“That's superman,” Thor rolls his eyes. 

“Ah, well thank you for correcting me, with your superior knowledge of comic books and all.”

“Just saw the movies.” 

“Typical.” 

“Hey! I do think I'm being insulted now.”

“Oh? Well let me know when you figure out for sure whether you're being insulted or not.” Loki's eyes catch the light from the lampposts, glittering with the laughter that is usually absent but so comfortable on his lean face. 

Thor tests the boundaries, scanning Loki's face as he grabs his hand. Loki freezes mid laugh for a heartbeat, pupils dilating. The laughter is replaced on his face with a tense smile. He holds up Thor's hand in his, staring at it. Turning it over as they walk in pace. 

Loki doesn't let go, but his grip is slack. Barely holding on. “This okay?” Thor asks. 

“It's just here,” Loki says, letting go of Thor's hand as he pauses to open a door. He makes no sign that he heard the question.

Loki holds the door open so Thor is forced to go in first. He barely has time to notice the outside of the building. Completely unremarkable. He would have kept walking if Loki hadn't stopped. Thor memorizes the faded red door before being ushered inside by Loki's ever indignant eyebrow arch. 

The hallway is dark, the walls painted black. There is no other direction to go but straight. Thor walks forward, Loki striding effortlessly beside him. The only light comes from the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling, casting a yellow pallor on their skin.

“There are no tables, we're full,” a host says at the end of the hallway before they come to a complete stop. She acknowledges them in no other way, eyes glued to a computer. Thor stops at an angle so he can see the screen. She's playing Tetris and doing terribly.

“We're only here to have a drink,” Loki says.

The host glances up at them. The screen flashes red as she loses. “What do you want to drink?” she asks. 

Thor opens his mouth to speak but is silenced by a fiery glare from Loki. “Whatever there is, as long as the bottle isn't marked poison,” Loki says. 

The host opens the door behind her, stepping back to allow them past. Loki steps through first this time. Thor crouches to follow him, the door frame much too small to accommodate him otherwise. The music crawls over his skin as soon as he steps inside, electric and jarring. 

“Codeword?” Thor asks over the din as the host closes the door behind them. 

“Good guess,” Loki says. 

“Good as in right?” Thor laughs. 

“Hrm, who knows?” Loki smiles back at him, beaming far too much for the emotion to be real. “Welcome to Wonderland,” he says, gesturing out at the room they're in.


	5. Wonderland

Thor follows Loki's fingers, taking in the room piece by piece. Object by object. He dwells on how each connects to the other in a jigsaw puzzle. A+ for effort. Any second now he expects Loki to slap a sticker in the shape of a star on his face while pushing him out the door. 

This is just a room he doesn't understand, yet. There has to be order. The lie fits comfortably into Thor's worldview as if it has always been there. 

It's black. That Thor knows. The walls and floor are painted black. Black light pours in from holes in the ceiling, bathing everything in a blue glow. What should be white is radioactive. Loki's teeth look manic when he grins. The light plays off the neon paint splatters. In the second grade Thor went to a classmate's birthday party in a glow and the dark mini golf. This is much the same, but instead of educational dinosaurs and planet sculptures a gigantic venus fly-trap, or maybe it's a vagina with teeth, is frozen in the process of erupting in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

“Keep looking around. I'll be at the bar getting us something to drink,” Loki leans in to whisper in his ear. Over the music Thor can barely hear him. “I'll find you.”

“Um...” Loki's gone before Thor can finish the thought. Come back. Just stay here. The unsaid words sting his tongue. 

“Wait...” Thor says to himself, softly enough that he can't hear the word. He only feels the muscles of his mouth move uselessly. An inhibited pantomime. 

Loki slips through the crowd, heading for a two-story rabbit with a clock for a face deep in conversation with a teacup that has a built in bar at the base. Loki disappears. He vanishes from sight like magic. 

Thor wastes several seconds looking after Loki, even when he knows he's gone. Swallowed up. Thor gives up with an exaggerated shrug and walks in the opposite direction. 

The dance floor is a circle. Thor paces around the perimeter. His eyes flicker over the strangers, a sea of bodies. His attention never rests for long. He shifts it constantly, never making eye contact with anyone. Looking from forehead to forehead. Sometimes trailing across an unusual outfit. A Victorian dress straight out of the museum. Memorizing someone's shoes. Bits and pieces.

A hand appears in front of Thor's face, palm up and inviting. Thor steps backwards, bumping into someone. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “No thanks,” he says uselessly. The stranger can't hear him. He smiles and shakes his head. She moves on with a liquid shrug, disappearing into the crowd as a wave of people moves between them. 

Thor feels a hand on his back. “No thanks,” he repeats as he turns around. 

“Thor?!” Sif shouts over the music. Thor's eyes widen. 

“Sif? What... what are you doing here?” His first instinct is to grin and grab her in a hug. 

In her arms Thor stiffens. The last time he talked to Sif he said he wasn't settled in yet. He said he'd see her soon. 

He hasn't seen her since his going away party. Up in his room while the party raged downstairs without the guest of honour. No one noticed when he slipped away. They sat on his old bed, staring at the wall, shoulder to shoulder. An uncomfortable few inches between them. All the tension from years on soccer fields and ice rinks saved for that moment when they had nowhere to burn the adrenaline that roared inside them and made every moment of silence painful. 

“Do you have to go?” Sif had asked him on that last day. 

“Yeah... yeah it's something I've got to do,” Thor told her. 

“I don't see why. You have everything here,” Sif said. 

“That's part of the problem,” Thor replied. 

“I don't get it... but whatever you want to do, I support you.”

Do you still? Thor drops his head into her shoulder as they hug in this place Loki called 'Wonderland.' Strange-worst-case-scenario-land seems more apt in the moment. 

“We're not checking in on you, promise,” Sif says. She lets him go. Her gaze is direct, matter of fact. It doesn't spoil the ear to ear grin on her face. The one Thor can't help but replicate.

“We?”

“Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral. They're here too,” Sif's voice strains over the music.

She leans in closer. They're not hugging, but they're an inch apart. With the music a blaring reminder that they aren't alone it's not intimate. They struggle to have any semblance of a moment. “Hogun wanted to check out the university, maybe enrol next year. Fandral couldn't resist the road trip... and I figured when you'd call, might not be a bad thing if I was in the city.” 

“It's not, it's great,” Thor lies. “How did you end up here though?”

“Fandral says he knows a guy. Said it was the place to party... kind of surprised there are even people here though. Looks like it's trying so hard to stay cool and private don't know how anyone gets in.” Sif rolls her eyes. “What about you?”

“Know a guy. He... well he didn't really say anything. We just ended up here.”

“Oh, that kind of relationship?” Sif smirks. 

“No... no. Not yet, I don't know,” Thor admits. 

“We can talk about it later, if you want.” Sif puts a hand on his shoulder. “It's really great to see you. You look good. I'm... glad. I was kind of worried.”

“Worried? There's nothing I can't handle Sif,” Thor says with a lazy self-assured smile. The ghost of his old self. Thor Odinson 1.0. The new model seems to have a few bugs in the system. 

“Of course.” Sif grins. “Let's go find everyone else. I'm sure they'll be really thrilled we ran into you.” 

Thor follows Sif through the crowd, keeping the back of her head locked in his sight. 

Volstagg lifts Thor up in a bear hug when they find the booth. 

Hogun pats Thor on the back and his lip quirks in the ghost of a smile. “Great to see you,” he whispers collectedly. 

Sif collapses into the booth, made in the shape of a teacup. It's a little too reminiscent of the spinning teacups kids ride in Disneyland. Kids-ride or not, it's definitely not safe to go on after downing a few beers. Thor eyes it warily as he slides last onto a seat. 

“Fandral went to grab some drinks. You can have mine,” Sif shouts over the music. 

“It's okay, the guy I came with is getting me one,” Thor says. 

“Oh yeah, so we'll get to meet the guy taking up all your time?” Sif teases.

“I thought you said we'd talk about that if I wanted to. If, key word.”

“Think I'm going to resist figuring out what I can about your new life when it's right in front of me?” She smiles playfully.

Thor grins in silence to hide his discomfort. “So Hogun, what program were you looking into?”

Thor only hears half the story over the music. He tunes in periodically to ask an appropriate question and nod in agreement. 

“Fandral! Over here!” Volstagg yells. 

Thor glances up. Fandral is halfway to their table, preoccupied with his tongue down someone's throat. 

Thor's eyes trace up those perfect cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. That raven black hair Fandral's fingers are carding through affectionately. Green eyes hooded by eyelids drooping in distracted pleasure. Thor feels the familiar queasy thrill, but this time he hasn't had any alcohol to bring it on. Fandral's making out with Loki. Or Loki's making out with Fandral. There is no better option. Each one leaves Thor's head spinning out of control. 

Thor can't feel his fingers or his legs. He stumbles out of the booth. He can just vanish into the next wave of people. Gone in a moment. 

“Fandral!” Volstagg shouts again. 

Fandral looks up this time. He waves enthusiastically at them, barely managing to not spill any of the drinks on the tray he's carrying. He tugs Loki over to them, sliding into the booth and putting the drinks on the table. Fandral drags Loki in next to him. 

“Wow, Thor, surprised to see you here!” Fandral grins, waving him to sit down. 

The only available seat is now next to Loki, trapping him between Fandral and Thor. Thor reluctantly sits down. His knees are about to give away anyways. 

Loki places the two drinks he was carrying on the table, sliding one over to Thor. It thuds louder than it should over the music. 

Out of the corner of his eye Thor notices Sif's eyes widen in an unspoken question. Thor's fingers close in a punishing grip around the bottle. 

“I'm sure I'm more surprised to see you here,” Thor says to Fandral in a clipped voice, false smile hurting his cheeks. He reigns in the shock. The torrent of anguish that burns through his body and leaves him desperate and raw to ask what the fuck is going on. The familiar adrenaline rush is suddenly punishing and painful. 

Did he do this on purpose? Did Loki know Thor knew Fandral? There's no way he could possibly know. He couldn't have known. The bottle is shaking in his grasp on the table, making a clattering sound. 

Loki's hand rests on Thor's forearm to settle his shaking. Thor leans into the touch, jerking back when Sif's pupils trace over the gesture. No one else seems to have noticed. Thor shoves his hands into his lap and grips his own thighs until his knuckles go white. 

“This is Loki,” Fandral introduces him to everyone. “Loki, these are my friends Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Thor.” Thor's mouth goes dry. 

“What's going on Loki?” Thor breathes out before he can stop himself. The words scrape past his lips like nails. 

“I don't know. I didn't have any expectations for the evening,” Loki says. His eyes are steely, pupils boring into Thor in a deathly embrace. He grins. 

“We're not in town for long, but you know Thor just moved here. You two should hang out sometime,” Fandral says with a friendly smile. Volstagg and Hogun are having a private conversation on their end of the booth about pastries. Or parties. Or how to plant pansies. 

“Yeah... maybe. We'll see,” Thor says.

Loki eyes him silently over the rim of his bottle as he takes a sip.

“Met anyone interesting yet Thor? Got some new friends you've abandoned us for? Haven't heard from you in ages man,” Fandral teases. He leans around Loki to squeeze Thor's shoulder affectionately. Fandral doesn't draw back completely when he's done, arm settling around Loki's shoulders. Casually protective. Thor forces himself to look away. 

“Nope, not at all,” Thor says. That terrible gut clenching feeling threatens to get worse if Fandral knows. To make this into something that can follow him back home. Infest the rest of his life, should he need to run back to it. The opportunities to do so are slipping further away. He has no reason to be angry with any of them. He just wants to crawl into a hole. If the earth swallowed Thor up right now, he would not object. 

“How long have you been in town Thor?” Loki asks. Thor barely avoids choking on his drink. Loki may not actually know, but the question makes him come off like a stranger. His face is hauntingly empty. Thor can't determine if he's playing along or playing with him.

“A week,” Thor says. 

“If you don't know anyone, how'd you get in here?” Fandral grins. 

“Just my luck, my absolutely stupendous luck.” Thor forces a returning smile. 

“You've always had great luck. Do you remember that time...” Fandral goes off into a rendition of their first year in university. Thor wasn't legal but he went to the bar with the rest of the football team anyways. Fandral, Sif, and Volstagg had stayed back at the dorm. The team coach came in just when Thor was downing his third beer. He managed to hide under the table and not get caught, even after the coach came to have a round with the rest of the team. “And since Thor had never been in the closet, for the next three years everyone just teased him about being under the table,” Fandral finishes with a beaming smile. 

“Yes, even after they all graduated, somehow that story kept coming up,” Sif says flatly, rolling her eyes on behalf of Thor. 

“Yeah... that sure was funny,” Thor says with a tight lipped smile. 

Fandral insists on trading stories back and forth. Loki is the only one no one offers to tell a story about, so he tells one for himself. He spins a tale about his high school years when he hacked the school district's computer system and fired his own principal. It took two weeks for someone to catch on.

“Wow, did you actually do that?” Fandral laughs. 

“Sure, whatever you like,” Loki says noncommittally. 

When they run out of stories people are willing to tell Volstagg insists on a drinking game. In between the stories Hogun slips out to get a few more rounds, stocking up for them. Thor considers offering, but he might not return and doesn't know how to explain his vanishing act to everyone else later. Well, everyone but Loki. Sorry I moved away and then ran away when you came to visit? Loki should expect it. 

“Truth or dare... and if the bottle lands on you, you have to take a shot first,” Fandral says. 

“How about just dare?” Loki counters.

Fandral squeezes his shoulder affectionately. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let's do that!” 

“And you have to take the first dare that's said, no matter what it is. That's how I play it,” Loki adds.

Thor takes a swig of his drink. 

“Woah! Someone's already started,” Volstagg teases. “You spin first then Thor.”

“And your dare is...” Hogun trails off with an uncharacteristic hiccup. Volstagg laughs. 

“You have to kiss the person it lands on,” Loki says smoothly. Everyone looks at him.”You're all friends, aren't you?” He shrugs casually. 

“Okay, Thor has to kiss who it lands on!” Fandral shrugs as he passes an empty beer bottle to Thor. 

Thor's fingers slip on the bottle. He holds his breath and spins it. Anyone but Loki. Anyone but Loki. Except it lands on Fandral and somehow that's even worse.


	6. Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i drew some potential looks for [thor](http://cantheysuffer.tumblr.com/post/71710997790/woww-does-thor-have-amazing-hair-in-tdw-but-i) & [loki](http://cantheysuffer.tumblr.com/post/71602904180/potential-look-for-loki-from-the-thorki-hipster) for this au a while back.
> 
> special thanks to [i-am-thor-odinson](http://i-am-thor-odinson.tumblr.com/) for glancing over this chapter for me <3

Thor drags his eyes up to meet Fandral's but is greeted by the side of his face. Fandral's eyes are locked on Loki instead. He's searching for permission. Loki meets his gaze calmly. “With tongue” snakes past Loki's lips. 

“Can't change it once the bottle's been spun,” Thor interjects. 

“Oh?” Loki says. The single syllable sounds innocent. It's loaded with gunpowder. 

Fandral leans across Loki and grabs Thor by the neck, jerking him forward. Thor finds himself leaning over Loki, practically in his lap. Thor shifts back to steady himself on the table but Fandral's grip is steadfast. He rams his lips into Thor's in a sloppy kiss. Playfully exuberant. Too much of a joke to be real. 

Loki's hand slips onto Thor's waist under the table. His dexterous fingers trace the curve of his thigh, shifting lower. Exploring. Thor's lips part in surprise. The gasp is muffled by Fandral's lips, but the sudden opening is mistaken for permission and Fandral's tongue darts inside Thor's mouth to lick a stripe up his palate.

Fandral pulls back with a drunken laugh. 

Thor's teeth clench and grit together as he forces a tight smile. “Huh, so you used tongue,” Thor says. It means nothing and yet he can't shake it. The ghost of Fandral's tongue in his mouth, feeling him up from the inside. 

Thor settles back into his seat, Loki's hand impatiently warm on his thigh. “So, have you two ever hooked up before?” Loki asks with a hazy smile. 

“No,” Thor says with force. 

Loki makes a show of checking Thor out, as if for the first time. He tilts his chin and rakes his gaze across Thor's body. Fandral laughs, mistaking it for a joke. There are so many mistakes to be made between them. 

Loki's gaze is unbearable as he increases the pressure on Thor's thigh. The touch Thor would have welcomed hours before is now confounding. His body responds against his will. A smile darts across Loki's face, assuring Thor he does indeed feel the tightening in his pants. “Really? Why ever not?”

“We're friends. Don't think of Thor that way,” Fandral says. 

Fandral grabs Loki's jaw and tilts his head towards him, chasing off the taste of Thor on his mouth by kissing Loki deeply, tongue delving inside. Thor looks away. Loki's hand slips further up Thor's thigh, kneading his crotch. There is no refuge to be found. 

Loki pulls back from the kiss first. His eyes are hooded with a pleasure Thor would bet has nothing to do with Fandral. Is it jealousy or confidence that rears within him? Thor damns them both. 

“I've never experienced that before. Tell me about it,” Loki purrs.

“Friends?” Fandral teases. 

“You just don't feel sexual attraction for that person. It just doesn't happen. That thing that might draw you to them isn't there,” Thor supplies. If his words hitch when Loki increases the pressure on his crotch no one makes it known. 

Loki looks at him. “Hrm,” he hums. “I wouldn't understand.” Amusement melts Loki's sharp face.

“What... you always feel sexual attraction for people?” Fandral's laugh doesn't match his words now. Thinly veiled distrust oozes out of his diction.

“No, he never feels it for anyone,” Thor says before he can stop himself. He catches himself glancing at Loki for approval, to ensure that he represented him correctly. Thor looks away just as quickly. His eyes bore with determination into the table. 

Loki's fingers trace the outline of Thor's half hard cock in reward. “Exactly.”

“But... so you can basically get it on with anyone then. It doesn't matter who.” Fandral's voice ghosts over the dangerous words he spits out. 

“If I wanted to.” Loki shrugs, evasive as ever. Thor watches Fandral's confidence rot on his face. 

“So, who is next for... dare or dare?” Thor laughs meekly as he pushes the bottle to the middle of the table. 

“Clockwise. I'll go,” Loki says. 

“Okay, take your drink,” Volstagg says. “And your dare is...”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Loki says. He downs the alcohol beside him in a single breath.

“You can't make your own,” Hogun mutters.

“The only rule is that it has to be said first. It was said first,” Loki responds as he flicks his wrist and the bottle spirals.

There is no best case scenario. 

The bottle slows and rolls along the table. When it eventually stutters to a halt the rim points to an empty space where no booths or chairs surround the table. “Foul? So, spin again with a new dare?” Thor suggests.

“I think it's closest to you, actually,” Loki says. 

Sif nods, “Yeah. He's right.” Thor glares at her across the table. 

“Haha, where do you even do seven minutes in heaven at a club? That's such a strange thing, why don't you make something else up?” Fandral's voice pales slightly.

“Bathroom,” Loki commands. He stares expectantly at Thor. 

Thor gets up, uncertain if the bigger threat is his knees giving out or bolting from the bar. Loki slips his arm around Thor's shoulder and guides him away from the table. “You can keep playing, while we're gone,” Loki calls back over his shoulder. 

They say nothing until they're in the bathroom. Loki leads him into a large stall. 

“Okay look,” Thor begins as the door closes. “I don't know when you met Fandral, if you met him today, or you knew him before... what the fuck are you doing?”

Loki's sunk to his knees and is unzipping Thor's pants. “Keep talking,” Loki prompts him. 

“We are not doing anything!” Thor fails to pull his zipper back up and resigns himself to struggling with Loki's fingers.

“Have you never played seven minutes in heaven before Thor? Don't worry, I'll be gentle.”

“I know what it is! Is this why you picked it? What would you have done if you got someone else?” Thor hisses between clenched teeth. 

“This?” Loki arches an eyebrow at Thor. That ever condescending, disgustingly attractive, expression Thor can't get out of the back of his eyelids. It'll be the face he masturbates to for the next three years, but he absolutely does not want Loki blowing him right now. Thor grabs Loki by the shoulders and hauls him to his feet. 

“Well I'm not interested in that if you're going to make out with other people.”

“Are we having the talk? This sounds like the talk,” Loki says with a frown. It's the first time Thor has seen him look genuinely disappointed. 

“I don't know, maybe?” Thor snarls in frustration. “Just... why the fuck did you do that?”

“No expectations. We've been over this Thor.”

“No expectations does not mean trying to Pavlov me into having a threesome with you and my friend. My childhood friend Loki!”

“Well you should have set your own rules then.” Loki sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Fine, my rule is not my friends.”

“So, with other people then?”

“Whatever you want,” Thor covers his eyes in exasperation and mimics the sigh. His is breathy and violent, a full body shudder.

“I know you don't actually mean that, You don't have any reason to be angry with me, I didn't do anything you told me not to,” Loki says snidely. 

“It's still not a very nice thing to do.”

“I was enjoying myself. That was nice.”

“Of course you were... you orchestrated this whole thing, didn't you?” Thor's hands slip off his eyes. He brackets them around Loki, trapping him against the stall door. He's burning to grab him, to mark him. To demand that he stop this. “Why?” Thor snarls inches away from Loki's face. “To test me? Or to teach me a lesson because you already thought I'd failed?”

“Because I enjoyed it and you never told me no.” Loki meets his gaze defiantly. Thor has at least fifty pounds on him and Loki doesn't back off by any means. “No, it's a very simple word Thor. Use it. Don't like I'm kissing someone? Say it. Don't just pretend you don't know me either now that your friends are here.” Thor can feel the heat of Loki's words on his face. The pressure behind each syllable like tangible smoke across his lips. 

Thor surges forward and kisses Loki furiously. One hand locks in an iron grip on Loki's jaw, the other tangled in his hair as he clenches it into a fist. 

Thor can feel the laughter beginning to bubble up from Loki, his lips pressing into a smile. He's not kissing back, but he's not stopping it either. Thor bites Loki's bottom lip and shoves his head back into the stall. 

“Fuck, you make me feel like I'm insane,” Thor pants into Loki's mouth, kissing him in between words.

“Insane is such a social construction. You probably are, if it even exists,” Loki says against Thor's lips. 

Thor crowds Loki against the door, their bodies pressed together in a single line. 

“We're all mad here,” Loki says between kisses. At the last word he bursts out laughing, breaking the kiss, forehead leaning against Thor's. 

“Very funny, Wonderland, you're so clever,” Thor mutters. His breath is still heavy, heart racing. Adrenaline spiking and coursing through him, but the flames have banked. 

“Oh, right. You can continue if you like,” Loki says, sliding his face down so their noses are now touching. 

“Do you want to? Actually want to?” Thor tries to trap Loki's gaze, but even when he manages he can't find anything there aside from the fragments of laughter and amusement that are now wearing thin. Congealing and being boarded away behind a blank green sheen. 

“Not particularly.” Loki shrugs.

“Did you enjoy kissing Fandral?” Thor asks. His confidence is deteriorating, the laughter grating with its effortless derision.

The moment should be ruined, but Loki's face doesn't change. “As much as I enjoy kissing you,” he purrs. 

“You're very helpful. You know that?” Thor mutters sarcastically.

“I live to serve,” Loki says with a rueful smile. 

A heavy banging comes from the other side of the stall door. 

“It's been about seven minutes by the way,” Loki whispers.


	7. your place

The banging continues from the other side of the stall. 

“Time's up. You can stop joking around now.” Fandral's voice is muffled by the door, but it can't distort the nervous agitation that rings clear in every jumpy syllable. 

“Who says we're-” Loki's voice is cut off by Thor's palm slamming over his mouth. 

“We'll be out in a minute, Loki's just helping me... figure out what to text this guy I'm into,” Thor calls back. 

Loki's lips move beneath Thor's hand, sliding open to allow his tongue passage to dart over the soft skin of Thor's palm. Thor digs his fingernails into Loki's jaw in warning. Loki's eyelids flutter in silent pleasure. Thor catches the expression out of the corner of his eye and reflexively strokes Loki's cheek with his thumb.

“I could have helped you with that.” Fandral can't mask the disappointment in his voice. 

“Almost done! Go get another round, on me,” Thor urges. 

Thor stiffly waits behind the door, listening tensely as Fandral sighs and finally slips from the stall to exit the bathroom, door swinging shut behind him. Thor jerks back from Loki when they're alone again, shaking off his hand slick with saliva. 

“You should ask him if he likes threesomes,” Loki purrs. 

“What the fuck?” Thor's eyes snap back to stare incredulously at Loki.

“That would be my advice about the guy you're texting, if he exists,” Loki says he leans back casually against the stall door. “If not, Fandral works too.” 

“I don't want a threesome,” Thor says in exasperation. 

“Hmm,” Loki hums to himself. “I'll pretend that's a no, but you really need to be clearer.”

“No,” Thor mutters coldly. 

“Good,” Loki says condescendingly as he traces his hand up Thor's cheek and pats it lightly. “Now, how would you like me to act in front of your friends?”

It remains unspoken that Loki can't return from locking himself in the bathroom with Thor to ignore Fandral for the rest of the evening. Unspoken, but felt like a physical tension wearing Thor down with every new exhale. “You're asking because I have to say, act just like you were before,” Thor says with a heavy frown.

“Guess I'll have to take one for the team.” Loki makes a joke of frowning. He leans forward until his mouth is butterfly-soft against Thor's. “I'll be thinking of you the entire time,” he purrs into Thor's lips, ending the final word with a sharp kiss. 

Loki pulls away to open the stall door. Thor grabs him by the arm before he can go, fingers encircling the other man's wrist. “Why do you like me?” Thor asks self-consciously, tongue sliding over his dry bottom lip. 

Loki looks Thor up and down, eyes flicking up at the end to lock with Thor's own. “Uncertainty doesn't suit you,” Loki replies with a hungry smile. 

When he leaves the bathroom Thor stares after him, wondering if Loki prefers seeing him so out of joint. He doesn't dare stop him again.

By the time Thor returns to the table Loki is curled up against Fandral. Loki cards his fingers through Fandral's hair, licking a stripe up Fandral's neck, stopping only to mouth just under the other man's ear. 

Thor stiffly resumes his seat, staring straight ahead and grinding his teeth to cover the sound of Loki's sucking. It doesn't help that he can practically see Fandral's lazy grin reflected in Sif's wide eyes from across the booth. 

“So, still playing?” Thor feebly asks. He grabs the abandoned bottle from the corner of the table and spins it to keep his hands occupied. 

“The game sort of died during your round,” Hogun supplies. 

“Only because Sif refused to dance on the table with me,” Volstagg drunkenly slurs. 

“That I did,” Sif says confidently. 

“So Thor, how do you like your classes so far?” Hogun asks. 

“They start on Monday, although my schedule looks great. I only have class on Monday and Thursdays and I just lead tutorials on Wednesdays.” Thor fights to keep his voice even. Loki has switched to using his teeth and only Thor can hear the faint catches in Fandral's breath over the music. Thor barely resists moving to the other side of the booth. He flicks his wrist roughly, sending the bottle into another wild tailspin. 

“So what have you been so busy with that you haven't returned any of Sif's calls?” Volstagg laughs. 

“I'm sure he's been busy unpacking.” Sif tries to cover for Thor, even as she subconsciously glances at Loki. 

Loki pulls up from Fandral's neck to meet Sif's gaze. “I think you've stopped into my store once or twice Thor. I swore you looked familiar when I sat down,” Loki says casually. 

Thor kicks Loki under the table, but Loki just traps his foot against the table leg. His bright green eyes slide over to Thor, openly giving him another once over. Thor bristles under the now familiar gesture. 

“Where do you work? I don't recall seeing you before.” Thor scrunches his eyebrows together to pretend he's thinking hard. 

“I own the coffee place a few blocks from here. Has a big Starbucks sign on the front,” Loki says.

Has a Starbucks sign, not is a Starbucks. Then Thor's mind catches up to the rest of the sentence and the confusion on his face is real. “You own it?” He blurts out. 

“That's really hot,” Fandral murmurs from behind Loki, grabbing at Loki's face to draw him back into a kiss. 

Loki shrugs out of Fandral's grasp, causing Fandral's lips to land sloppily on the edge of Loki's jaw, much to Thor's simultaneous relief and horror. “I think someone is ready to go home now,” Loki smiles. He stands up, forcing Thor to also stand and leave the booth to let him pass. 

“You'll take care of him, right?” Loki's voice doesn't match the question.

“Yes, we've got him,” Sif says stiffly.

“Thor, would you walk me home?” Loki purrs, slipping his hand into Thor's and tracing his index finger over the pulse point in Thor's wrist. Thor shivers involuntarily under his touch. 

“I'll call you tomorrow Sif. We can meet up if you're still in town,” Thor says hurriedly. He leaves before she can reply, tugging Loki along before the other man can do anything else inappropriate. 

“What happened to being all over Fandral?” Thor hisses when they're outside of Wonderland, dropping Loki's hand and taking a step back. 

“You were much more interesting.” Loki smirks. The gesture is the faintest quirk of his thin lips rather than a grin or real smile. Not happiness by any means, but something amused all the same. Thor finds himself shivering again. 

Loki closes the distance between them and Thor doesn't back away to keep it. Loki experimentally runs his fingers through Thor's hair, pulling it out of his bun to fall around his face like static energy. Loki bites his bottom lip and this time he grins. “Much more,” Loki purrs. 

“But you're still not sexually attracted to me?” Thor asks. Somehow his voice is even and confident, too mesmerized by the colour of Loki's eyes so close to remember to be nervous. This is much more natural. 

“Not one little bit,” Loki says. He kisses Thor violently, ramming their lips together and crushing them between their teeth. Loki's tongue arches against Thor's lips, slick and eager when Thor parts his lips and lets him inside. Loki digs his fingernails into the back of Thor's neck, just the right side of painful. 

Loki pulls back slowly, pupils blown and face a little flushed. He's not laughing this time, but Thor can feel the echo of his wry amusement choking him all the same. 

“I don't want to go home,” Loki says. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, taking a slow drag and closing his eyes to sigh in synch with his exhale. “Take me back to your place,” Loki says.

“What is this? Between us?” Thor asks.

“No expectations. Otherwise, whatever I like. Whatever you like,” Loki says between drags on the cigarette. It all sounds so simple under the starlight and amidst the smoke. They could be anything. They could be everything. Thor struggles not to fall for it. 

“So what, if I take you home, and we have sex, you can just have sex with Fandral, or the next guy, tomorrow?” Thor says. His voice is rough to hide the want, the burning desire for Loki to say no. 

“No expectations, so me going back to your place doesn't mean we're having sex.” Loki smiles condescendingly. “It literally means I want to go to your place, not my own.” 

“And how long until you're making out with someone else again?” Thor barges on. 

“Who knows?” Loki shrugs gracefully. “But you better make up your mind Thor. Your friends might decide to leave at any minute and it'd be better if we weren't here when they did.”

“You're pressuring me.”

“And it's working because you know if you don't take me home tonight, you won't be able to stop yourself from showing up at my store. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but it'll happen, and I'll be waiting.” Loki shrugs again. “Or not, who knows? All we have for sure is right now.”

Thor grits his teeth in exasperation. 

“Just tell me to leave and I will,” Loki purrs as he slips his hand into Thor's. 

“Alright,” Thor says with a tense exhale. 

They walk without speaking, Loki smoking the third cigarette of the evening with his spare hand. The only sounds in the night are their eerie in synch footsteps and Loki's sharp exhales that sound too much like pleasure for Thor's peace of mind. 

When they reach Thor's apartment building Thor taps the code into the door, leading them through the lobby and up a set of stairs. He pulls out his key to unlock the first door on the second floor by habit, eyes trained on Loki to catch even the slightest change in expression.

“It's nice,” Loki says as he walks inside, turning around on the front hall carpet to take in the hallway that leads into the living room and the small kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Thor says, slipping off his shoes. Loki mirrors him. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Thor asks. 

Loki takes it as an invitation and slips into the living room, pacing past the couch and scanning Thor's movie collection. “Can we watch one?” Loki asks. 

“Yeah sure, um. There's microwave popcorn in the left cupboard if you want,” Thor says.

Loki walks into the kitchen, giving Thor a great unobstructed view of his ass. Thor watches his movements without the usual worry of Loki staring back, finally able to really look. Even just reaching for the cabinets Loki is graceful. His hands dart like water and shadow, his body moving in a liquid finesse. 

Thor clears his throat with a rough cough. “I'm just going to wash up so make yourself at home. I'll be out in a few,” he says. 

Thor tears himself away to the solitude of the bathroom. He immediately locks the door and flips up the toilet lid to relieve himself. 

Thor unzips his pants to find his cock straining against his underwear. He traces the outline with a strained sigh, the image of Loki trapped beneath him against the bathroom stall door at the club burned into his mind. Thor slides his underwear to his ankles and runs his fingers down the length of himself, hissing with the dry roughness. 

Thor turns the shower on to mask the sounds of his breath hitching as he palms his cock. His hand moves slowly at first, but the pressure and pace increases with every stroke. In a minute all of his senses are flooded with the heavy ache of his panting and the coursing pleasure in his cock, moments from release. 

“Do you want some help with that?” Loki's voice interrupts through the bathroom door.

Thor's hand clamps down on his cock in surprise, jerking forwards and falling with a thud as he gets caught in the underwear trapped around his ankles.


	8. Safe

Thor doesn't pick himself up from the floor, still tangled in the underwear around his ankles. He kicks it off to give himself time, buying moments with futile gestures. His cock burns on the chilly tiled floor. The gestures don't help any, only postponing the inevitable. 

Thor aches to unlock the bathroom door and let Loki inside, let him finish him off with his hands. Or his mouth. Thor groans low and desperate at the thought. But as much as he can't get the image of Loki slammed up against the bathroom stall from his mind, neither can he erase the image of Loki slipping his tongue into Fandral's mouth. 

He can still hear Loki's question, rattling around in his brain. 'Do you want some help with that?'

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Thor grunts.

The sound of Loki's fingernails raking over the other side of the bathroom door sear over the babble of the shower. Thor grabs for the handle and shuts off the water. He's not fooling anyone. 

“That's exactly why I want to do it,” Loki purrs, his voice followed by another scrape of nails. 

“Fuck, fuck Loki! Stop clawing up my bathroom door,” Thor snarls. 

“Give me something else to claw up instead.” Somehow Loki's voice is calm. A perfectly reasonable voice, not one Thor expected to adjoin his first explicit hint that Loki likes it rough. Gives it rough. Thor exhales sharply, grasping for his cock again. Loki's laughter is muffled by the door between them. “Oh, is that how you want it, Thor?” Loki purrs, fiercely darkening his voice with forced intention. 

“How?” Thor gasps amidst strokes. If his cock softened since realizing Loki could hear him, the attention from Loki's voice has brought him right back to where he was before. He grits his teeth to hold back a hiss. His cock, completely dry against the roughness of his own hands, is raw from the friction, and yet he can't bring himself to stop.

There's a faint thud as Loki's back hits the other side of the door and he slides down to it. Thor can imagine him sitting there, in the hallway, legs stretched out, head tilted so his lips brush the door with every word. Thor's hand speeds up on his cock in frustration. 

“You won't let me touch you because you're afraid of what will happen,” Loki laughs darkly. Thor can hear Loki's shoulders shivering with the pleasure, rattling the door between them. “You've seen how I like to play and you already can't handle it. You don't want to even imagine how you'll take it once I've gotten inside of you,” Loki purrs, stretching out every syllable.

“Inside,” Thor grunts between strokes. “Who says I wouldn't be fucking you?”

“You could, but we both know I'd still be the one getting under your skin.” Thor can hear the smile in his predatory voice. “But you can't get away from me either, so you think, as long as I don't touch you you're safe.”

“Am I?” Thor slows his hand, just a fraction. 

“Nothing is safe Thor, but don't let that stop you,” Loki says. He hums for a moment, elongating the pause between actual words. “Got any lotion in there? Or lube?”

“Yeah,” Thor replies warily. 

“Get it.” 

Thor stands up, right hand straying to flick the head of his cock as his left fumbles through the bathroom cabinet over the sink. “Okay, I have it.”

“Lovely. Now I want you to put a little on your hands and then rub it on your cock. Can you do that for me, Thor?”

“Mhm,” Thor replies, forcefully ignoring how eager he sounds. Not even a word, just a half moan. 

“What was that, Thor?” Loki's voice comes through the closed door. 

“Yeah,” Thor mutters as he sits back down on the tile and flips open the cap of lube. He squirts a small amount into his hands and rolls them together. 

“Pardon?” Loki asks. 

“Yes,” Thor exhales with a pant, louder this time, as his hands slick his cock up. 

“Much better.” For once the praise isn't condescending. Loki's voice is back to being practical, calm, and relaxed. Like he's teaching Thor how to do his taxes or pick out a suit, and it shoots a line of pleasure right down to Thor's cock. 

“Thank you,” Thor mutters.

“Oh, you're well mannered,” Loki hums. 

“Fuck,” Thor hisses, stroking faster. 

“Oh, I don't quite like that. Do I have to come in there?” Loki's voice darkens in mock threat.

“Ff-no, no, you don't,” Thor stammers. He slams his fist down his cock, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He can't help but rock his hips up just a little to meet his own hand, aching with the desire for it to be someone else jerking him off. He bites down harder on his lip. 

“Alright. Now Thor, what would I be doing if I was in there with you?”

“I don't know,” Thor pants.

“Oh, you must know. Surely you've thought about it before,” Loki teases. “Would my hand be on your cock? Or would it be my mouth?” He hums suggestively. “Hm, yes my mouth. Going slowly at first, but I don't think you'd like that for long. Why, I think I'd let you grab my hair and fuck my mouth raw. Fuck it till I couldn't swallow without thinking about your cock, couldn't breath, without thinking of you, for days,” Loki says. 

Thor whines, losing the grip on his bottom lip. All he can feel is the pleasure curling in his cock, flaring with every thrust and never quite going down again. 

“Oh yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” Loki's voice rises eagerly.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh god, Loki-” Thor stammers.

“Just come darling, you are so absolutely gorgeous when you let go. Just think of fucking my mouth, choking out all these words with your cock.” Loki talks him through his orgasm gently, continuing through Thor's fist jerking faster, frantically. “That's right baby, there you go,” Loki purrs when Thor lets out a rough exhale and finally lets go of his cock, panting heavily. 

For a minute Thor just pants, gasping for air, revelling in the after-orgasm haze. He stares at the tiles between his feet, trying to catch his breath.

But, eventually, Thor glances back up at the door and his eyebrows tense. Loki hasn't said another word.

Thor stands up slowly. He hastily cleans himself off with a tissue that he disposes of, yanking his underwear and pants back on. Thor lifts his hand to the doorknob, fingers hovering by the lock. He clears his throat in uncertainty. 

Thor takes a deep breath in and unlocks the door, opening it slowly to not bump Loki hard if he's still on the other side. 

The door gets all the way open before Thor realizes Loki's sitting on the other side of the hallway, face cradled in his hands, staring directly at him as if he's been waiting just to watch the show. Loki's wearing a self-righteous grin Thor doesn't know what to do with. 

Not a single hair is out of place on Loki's head. His pants are completely zipped up. He definitely hasn't masturbated. Thor glances down to Loki's crotch and he can't even tell if he's hard. Probably not then. Loki's eyes follow him. Thor quickly averts his gaze when they accidentally lock eyes just as Thor looks up from checking out Loki's covered cock. 

“So,” Thor says awkwardly. His hand hovers on the bathroom doorknob, completely lost. 

“So,” Loki repeats. The smile widens. “I notice you like the idea of sexual ownership.”

“I notice you... don't?” Thor says, glancing back down at Loki's crotch again before he can stop himself. 

“Oh, I enjoyed myself. Just not in the way you did,” Loki assures him. 

“In what way then?”

“I figured, based on how terrible you take my one rule, that this was more your style. I mean I'm not going to do it for real, but I might as well try it out, see if I'm right,” Loki says.

“You like being right?”

“Right, wrong, doesn't matter.” This time it's Loki's eyes that shift down to Thor's crotch. “The reaction is what I want.”

“Well, you got a reaction,” Thor says in exasperation. 

“Mhm,” Loki hums. He stands in one fluid gesture. Thor fights not to back up, but Loki notices him tense all the same. “And as far as reactions go,” Loki exhales sharply, “trapped in your own bathroom because you're afraid you'll fuck me, but jerking off to the thought of fucking me.” Loki's smile gets a little hazy. “You're fun Thor,” he purrs.

“Um... thanks?” Thor replies feebly. He's completely spent, but somehow his gut wrenches in pleasure, burning to figure out exactly what kind of fun Loki means. 

“So, now that that's out of the way, popcorn,” Loki says, turning around and heading to the kitchen. “You should go clean up now,” Loki calls back to Thor without looking at him. 

Thor hesitates in the doorway, frowning, but that quickly vanishes when his eyes find Loki's ass. Thor catches himself staring. This is exactly how it started last time. He retreats into the bathroom and slams the door, but not loud enough to cover up the sound of Loki's laughter.


	9. Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we were overdue for some fluff ;) I may also have been inspired by my recent valentine's day plans. It probably won't happen again soon haha. Thank you all for reading and keeping up with the story so far. <3

Thor turns on the shower, cranking it as hot as he dares. He strips while the room fills with steam. A wary apprehension flares with every article of clothing Thor drops to the ground. 

Thor lingers over the sound of the shower, toes shuffling the curtain aside but not yet stepping inside. He can't hear Loki moving around in the kitchen, but he's there. Even when he's gone, Thor will know Loki's been there. 

Thor steps into the shower, hissing against the sting of scalding water. He impatiently alternates his weight between his feet, waiting for his skin to adjust to the brandishing temperature. 

The water pounds against Thor's skin, rhythm stroking away the tension of the day, imprinted on Thor's muscles, and replacing it with a pleasurable ache. Soon the thoughts go too, wrung out until there are no words left on Thor's mind. No second guesses. No what ifs. The thick air leaves him with a lazy smile and a fine line of sweat intermingling with the water droplets chasing across his skin. 

Thor turns off the water, pulling a towel into the shower and wiping himself off. He almost leaves the room in just the towel, remembering Loki at the last second before his wrist turns to open the door. 

Thor tugs his clothes back on, scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin slicked with warmth. He leaves his hair loose. The blonde tresses fell past his shoulders in a wave, dampening the collar of his shirt.

Thor tentatively leaves the bathroom, glancing around his apartment. The kitchen is empty. Thor finds Loki curled up on the couch in front of the television, tucked beneath a blanket and cradling a bowl of popcorn in his lap. 

Thor approaches, padding into the room with bare feet. His skin sticks to the floorboards not unpleasantly. If Loki hears the little squishing sounds Thor makes when he walks his face doesn't show it, absorbed with the previews of whatever movie he will force Thor to endure. Loki tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, lips opening automatically. 

“What'd you pick?” Thor asks as he sits on the couch next to Loki. He leaves a foot of space between them, glancing again at the blanket Loki's apprehended. Thor took the blanket from his parent's house when he moved out, the one familiar comfort he allowed himself, but guiltily stashed it in his closet. Thor hasn't seen it since.

Loki lifts up the blanket without explanation. He waves it until Thor gives in and slides over. 

Thor fights the wave of questions that surface at the gesture, intimate in a way that doesn't match their relationship. Except it's not a relationship and this is all they have, perhaps the very reason Thor allows it. It is so easy to just give in when Thor admits to himself that there's nothing but these fleeting moments and he wants what's being offered.

“The last thing I'd expect to find,” Loki replies, still without looking at him. 

Thor takes Loki's lack of direct attention as an opportunity to trace his face, eyes hesitantly roving, not sure what he's expecting to find. Not sure what Loki will let him see. Transfixed by the television Loki looks soft and young. 

“Did you pick it because you saw it and were like oh wow, this is the last thing I expected to find, let's watch that, or did you actually set out looking for the most ridiculous thing and this happened to be it?” Thor asks.

“Second one,” Loki says with a faint laugh. 

“Well then,” Thor says, grabbing a piece of popcorn from the bowl in Loki's lap. “If this is just another game why are you watching the screen and not me?”

“That would be too easy Thor,” Loki chides him affectionately, snuggling up deeper into the blanket. 

Loki adjusts himself, dropping his head until it presses into Thor's shoulder. Thor can't breath without ruffling the top of Loki's hair. He smells like lavender. Lavender and smoke. 

“Oh sorry, of course. Forgive me for ever thinking you'd take the easy way out,” Thor teases back flatly, kicking his legs up to make himself more comfortable under the blanket.

The trailers come to an end and what is probably the protagonist steps into the scene. Thor's eyebrows furrow in bemusement, mimicking an internal confusion as he struggles to remember the actress. 

“What is this?” Thor asks impatiently.

“Wait for it,” Loki says, not bothering to hide the amusement rippling in his eager voice.

Thor only has to wait a minute before the title flashes across the screen. Bridget Jones' Diary. 

“Loki,” Thor groans. 

“Mmm,” Loki hums noncommittally, biting into his bottom lip. That doesn't stop the spreading smirk.

“My mom left this here. It's not even mine!”

“It was on your shelf.”

“Are we really watching this?” Thor groans again. 

“It would appear that way,” Loki says. Thor doesn't miss how his eyelids flutter while he talks, as if he can't quite manage speaking and keeping them open at the same time. “Don't worry. Hugh Grant is absolutely fuckable in it.”

“You'd fuck Hugh Grant?”

“Who would you fuck?”

“I mean that other guy, the only that plays Mark- hey, why are you laughing now?” Thor pushes Loki, softening the shove when Loki makes a low moaning sound that shoots straight to Thor's cock in a jolt of arousal. 

Loki continues laughing gently as he drapes an arm across Thor's legs, shifting lower to pool his head in Thor's lap. 

Thor doesn't know where to put his hands. He settles for one on Loki's shoulder, the other on Loki's neck. 

“So you have seen it before, I gather,” Loki says. Thor can hear the lazy smile in his voice, completely at his expense like every gesture of amusement before it. Thor will take them all.

“Didn't say I hadn't,” Thor says back confidently, attempting to regain control over the situation. 

“No you didn't, that's true,” Loki says. He shifts his head so the back of his shoulder is just barely pressing into the faint bulge in Thor's pants.

“So you never said if you'd actually fuck Hugh Grant or not. You just said he was fuckable,” Thor says, trying to ignore the increasing pressure. He shifts slightly in his seat, but for the most part Loki's head pins him effectively. Thor isn't going anywhere. 

“And?” 

“Would you?” Thor clarifies.

“Everyone's fuckable Thor,” Loki says softly, evading the question with a useless statement on the same topic. 

“So why'd you say it then?”

“Just messing with you.”

“You mean fucking with me,” Thor snorts.

“No, that'll be later,” Loki says with a laugh. The sound seems to come as easy to Loki as words, quickly tainting his sentences with a dark humoured condescension. 

Thor's about to ask him if he's serious but Loki shifts to make himself more comfortable and mumbles, “just shh and watch the movie.” 

Thor huffs at him but relents, eyes flicking back to the television screen. Absentmindedly Thor's fingers traces little circles on the bare skin of Loki's neck. 

Loki lets out a breathy exhale, wriggling into the tension of Thor's rough hand. “Mmm that's good,” he moans softly.

“I thought nothing was good,” Thor says with a reckless smirk of his own. 

Loki tilts his head to look up at Thor, blinking once. Thor can feel Loki's hair shift on his bare arms. 

“You're right, I did,” Loki says flatly. For a moment Thor feels Loki tense, perhaps to sit up, kiss him even, but he only rolls his head and shoulders back to face the television once again. 

“That's tolerable then. Perhaps,” Loki says, nudging his head backwards into Thor's fingers. Thor presses harder as he rubs at Loki's neck. 

“Perhaps?”

“Have to use words for something, it's difficult to communicate without them, and yet the more I use, the less they mean,” Loki mutters. 

Thor stiffens, becoming very still in the wake of a discomforting sort of intimacy. “I've never felt that way.”

“You just say words and don't check if the person understands what they mean,” Loki says it as a statement. 

“Well I hope they understand what I mean, that I'm communicating effectively, that I get my point across,” Thor says earnestly. 

“They won't understand. But I enjoy your good intentions, and I really do mean good.” The syllables come slower than usual, not the quick jabs, but elongated insults that shouldn't hurt. They do anyways.

“You've said that before... that I wouldn't understand. You're saying it for yourself.”

“You keep up.”

“Hardly,” Thor says with a humble laugh. “But I try.”

“You keep up enough Thor. It's enough.” 

Thor doesn't respond. He lets the conversation end there, or perhaps Loki does. Either way neither of them speak again. They stare at the television screen, watching the movie neither of them is quite interested in. 

Scenes later Loki's words still roll around in Thor's mind. It might be the first time Loki has offered him legitimate praise. Of course he could entirely misunderstand the purpose intended behind those words, but for right now, Thor imagines he understands. Just once, he understands. It's a delicate lie and as such it is extremely precious. 

Halfway through the movie Loki falls asleep, giving away his state with the faintest of snores. Thor stares down at him in exasperation, holding back the laughter that threatens to break the spell. Loki actually snores. 

The joke is on Thor though when he can't extricate himself from the blanket and Loki lying in his lap, forcing Thor to watch the rest of the movie by himself. 

Thor rolls his eyes as he succumbs to his fate. “Bridget Jones,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.


	10. Relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some relationship progression, while staying true to the vagueness I've made central to this storyline. I'm not really sure where this story is going, but the good news is I've temporarily gotten rid of my plan to have this fic end in the next two chapters. It might even get more exciting!
> 
> I've been neglecting imagining how academic theory works in practice, which is really what makes this fic fun for me, so have some Loki heavily referencing Adorno's work on ethics.

Thor wakes up on the couch to find his blanket draped across his body, the lingering ghost of Loki's gestures when he is nowhere to be seen. Thor doesn't remember falling asleep. Why didn't he go back to his own bed? Too many questions too soon and the morning light streaming into the living room is a poor audience, relegated to a stark indifference. 

If Loki isn't on the couch he must be gone, vanished into thin air. Thor takes it as the erasure of a one night stand that never happened. He blinks sleepily at the blanket, snuggling into his own body warmth, vague and ephemeral enough that it could be Loki's touch if only Thor closed his eyes. 

The possibility of a Loki leaving a note behind rouses Thor eventually, groaning and stretching off the couch.

He fumbles for his phone, hand lurching forward out of habit, and immediately wishing he'd postponed doing so. 

The screen flashes with a text message from Sif, asking if he still wants to see her today. Is everything okay? Is Loki his boyfriend? The time stamp under the message indicates it was sent three hours ago. Thor blinks, failing to think past his grogginess. He can't bring himself to respond in the end. There are too many questions he doesn't know the answers to. 

There's another text, this one from Fandral. Thor tosses the phone at the couch, blinking with the unread message. Thor misses the couch entirely and the phone hits the floor with a dull thud. 

“Don't shoot the messenger,” a dryly amused voice creases into the silence of Thor's living room. 

Thor looks up with a start, eyes wide at the sight of Loki sitting casually at his kitchen table. 

Loki stares back blandly, oddly haughty for someone still wearing the outfit he worked in all day yesterday. His shirt shows the wear, creases wrinkling around the elbows and his collar is flat. Even grungy, Thor can't help but appreciate that he looks meticulously clean. Thor's eyebrows furrow at the paradox and the other dozen questions Loki's presence rouses in him. 

“I didn't realize you'd still be here,” Thor says, the words a slow trickle past his lips. There is no reason Loki should still be around, but then again there is no reason any of this should have happened.

“Is that you asking me to leave?” Loki's face portrays none of the hurt that should go along with such a sentence, bored instead. 

“No! No, stay,” Thor says quickly. 

Loki shrugs and takes a sip from a mug in front of him. Thor's eyes follow Loki's hand as it moves up, fingers splaying over the tall white mug, so narrow it barely fits a cup of liquid. Two years ago Thor received it as a gag gift, entirely impractical and too pretentious to do anything but gawk at. The mug fits perfectly into Loki's slim hand. 

“You need better coffee by the way,” Loki informs Thor flatly. 

“Well not all of us have the pleasure of a coffee shop at our disposal.” The banter comes fast and easy with an apologetic grin that doesn't mean what it's offering. 

“What a shame.”

“How did you sleep?” Thor asks, wandering into the kitchen. There's just enough for one cup of coffee left, sitting in the French press where Loki made it. Thor smiles to himself as he pours it into a mug.

“Tolerably.”

Thor nods, the single word response throwing him off. He takes a sip from his mug. “I don't need better coffee by the way, you just don't know how to make it.” 

“Ah, then you ought to teach me how to make good coffee some time.” 

“If you're lucky.” They could got lost in useless conversation for hours, postponing talking about anything meaningful. Last night might as well not have happened. 

Thor has yet to touch Loki and when he realizes it the distance between them stretches and expands. 

Experimentally Thor takes a step towards Loki, gauging the other for his non-existent reaction. 

“Hey,” Thor says, “is that my laptop?” His eyes fall on the computer in front of Loki, only then really seeing it. It's the first time Thor's eyes have fully left Loki since first seeing him in the kitchen. 

“How would I know?” Loki replies noncommittally. 

Thor stops behind Loki's shoulder to peer at the screen. The webpage is open to an electronic book Thor doesn't recognize.

“That's password protected,” Thor says with a bemused frown. 

“Is it?”

“Well it was.”

“I left it on. Same password.” Loki stares at Thor expectantly, as if he's awaiting some kind of 'thank you' in return for not locking Thor out of his own computer. 

Thor rolls his eyes in lieu of a response.

“Poptarts890,” Loki says in a mock exasperated voice before cracking a smile. It's at Thor's expense, because Thor is keeping track of these things. 

“Oh and what is your password, coffeesnob000?”

“Well that's hardly a secret, so I wouldn't use it for a secret password.” 

“Thanks for leaving me some, by the way,” Thor says. Loki arches an eyebrow, that single effortless gesture. Even after sleeping his eyebrows are perfectly crafted so they can't be drawn on with sharpie. Well, probably not. “Coffee,” Thor clarifies.

“Oh, did I?” But the question means nothing against the array of subterfuges Loki speaks in. The regular deceit masks his honesty, if that ever even occurs. 

“Are you going in to work today?” Thor asks. 

“Might. I'd rather avoid the weekend rush.” Loki takes another sip of coffee, brief irritation rippling across his gaunt face before vanishing entirely. 

“Is that why you're still here?” It's a dangerous question. Thor could have phrased it some other way to elicit a better response, but damn that. 

“Among other reasons.” 

“Which are?”

“I wanted to be.”

Thor's mouth drops a little, caught off guard by what could be sincerity. “You wanted to be here?” he repeats.

“Yes.”

Thor leans down and kisses Loki, quick and eager. He's doing it before he can stop himself. It's so easy to become lost in the feel of Loki's lips and the way he always smells faintly of ash, just beneath the sweet tang of coffee on his tongue. 

Loki mimics Thor's movements with a softness that probably isn't real, pressing back and parting his lips. He returns each kiss with one of his own. They fall into a steady rhythm of kissing, back and forth, chaste as preschoolers. 

There's a deliberate moment when the softness wears away into something colder and insistent. Loki's teeth graze Thor's lower lip. His lips linger, tongue pushing insistently, and yet every action is devoid of the eagerness Thor has come to expect. 

Thor pulls back to break the kiss, peering at Loki's face for something other than the familiar emptiness he's offered. Still so close Loki could pull him back and continue the kiss, but of course he doesn't. Thor worries his bottom lip with his teeth, scraping it absentmindedly back and forth between them. 

Thor places his palms flat on the table in front of Loki, giving them somewhere to be other than digging into the indents exposed at Loki's hips. Rigging up Loki's shirt. Pulling it off. Dragging his pants down. Loki would probably allow it. Thor closes his eyes and lets out a heavy exhale. 

“I can ask what words mean, right?” Thor's voice grates on him in the charged silence between them. He dredges up old conversations as armour. Nothing else but Loki's riddles can protect him, but they weren't meant for such purposes. Soon they'll turn on Thor. They'll leave him raw and exposed. He finds he doesn't care just yet.

“I'll tell you what words mean. You can do whatever you like though.” There's a difference Thor doesn't catch, an implication being made, but he lets it go. Too many meanings to get snagged and lost in, Loki an expert at the art of misdirection. 

“The one rule is no expectations. What exactly does it mean to you?” Thor opens his eyes hesitantly. 

At first all Thor gets is a smile, terse but amused in the same gesture. 

Standing so close to Loki is suddenly uncomfortable with them no longer kissing, an evasiveness embroiled by the ghostly memories of what they were doing moments before. Thor could end it with a kiss. Loki would allow him the refuge, probably. Thor could even walk away. He holds his breath and waits instead, held steady by the erratic rhythm of his heart that signals the once familiar adrenaline spikes he used to love. Maybe he still does. 

“That I don't spend right now worrying about if you'll like me tomorrow-”

“Of course I'll still-” Thor's interruption is cut off by the single arch of an eyebrow. He purses his lips and nods at Loki to continue. 

“It goes both ways. I don't want to have to worry about what happens if someone catches my eye.”

Thor stares at Loki expectantly, waiting for the explanation that never follows. 

“Does that happen often?” Thor says when he can't bare the silence any longer. 

“Yes.”

“Well it's natural to see someone you like even if you're with someone. You just don't act on it,” Thor says with a shrug. The feeling is familiar. Catching someone's eye at a party. Staring at them dancing while holding someone else. Fleeting memories that don't stay for very long because Thor tells himself he's not the sort of person to act on those desires.

“Why?”

Thor frowns at the question. “Because.” His eyebrows furrow. “You made a promise to that other person, that it'd be just the two of you.”

“I didn't.” 

“But you should. It hurts people when you don't.”

“It hurts me if I make a promise I don't want to keep. It hurts them that I won't keep it, so why not begin without the promise?” Thor finds himself falling into the lull of Loki's reasonable voice, but he snaps to attention at the realization that they are hypothetically talking about their own relationship. Loki is talking about cheating on him, but how can it be cheating if he's always told him he'll do it? 

“That's just... how relationships are. You make the promise.” It sounds feeble even to Thor's ears. The ways things are. 

“That's just a collective ethos trying to impose itself when it's no longer realized,” Loki snaps. It's the first time Thor's heard him sound actually annoyed and he stares at him, tyring to find the crack. Why there is a break in the veneer and what it even means. 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he says tersely.

“No.” Thor surprises himself. “Tell me.” They can't go back to that first day where Loki is far away and untouchable. 

“You won't understand.”

“I won't understand what you want to say, but I'll understand it in my own way,” Thor says quickly. 

He's hit the right words, somehow, because Loki nods faintly. 

“When something is indifferent to actual social conditions, how we really exist and are, and insists on its own way anyways, the only way it can be realized is through violence. It's an eclipse of the present, an imposition,” Loki says, more words than Thor's ever heard him say at once. He basks in them.

“So... it would be a violence to expect anything else of you.” 

Loki nods, not with real reward, but as if Thor understood enough. It's enough. “And I won't let you do that.”

“But isn't it then a violence to... expect anything else of me?”

“Yes, which is why I let you initiate.”

Thor laughs coldly in spite of himself, the sound gone before he can catch it, like so many others. He didn't expect there to be any method behind Loki's actions. 

“What would you do otherwise, if you weren't waiting for me to initiate?”

Loki shrugs, casually, but it's the build up for a moment at odds with the gesture. “Get inside you. Figure out how you ticked.”

“But... could you actually?” Thor tries, he really does. So many conversations between them and he snags onto bits and pieces, this one from the first time Loki texted him. 

“No. Of course not. But you can pretend, for a while.” What happens after a while is left unspoken and Loki allows Thor that small peace. 

“I don't know what to do,” Thor admits. He finally sits down at the table opposite Loki, keeping it between them. The resignation is heavy in his words and actions. 

“What do you want to do?” Loki says. He leans back in the chair like it's his, as if he is not a guest sitting and Thor's kitchen table, and he takes another sip of the coffee he made without asking.

“Honestly?” Thor says, using the question to build up to the confidence he used to have. Wants to find again. 

Loki nods. 

“Fuck you.”

Loki smirks, the faintest upturns of the curve of his mouth. Thor can hear the echo of his laughter even if it hasn't materialized yet. He's heard it at too many inopportune occasions to ever be free of it. 

“Well, have you fuck me, actually,” Thor corrects himself hastily. He can feel the heat rising on his face. 

“And what's stopping you?” Loki asks casually, in the same simple voice as if he were remarking on the weather. Thor exhales sharply at the indifference, a surge of arousal surprising him. 

“I don't want to be jealous. I don't want to show up to the coffee shop and see you flirting with someone else,” Thor says, listing off the fears that are already real. 

“If it's just jealousy Thor, you're always welcome to join in.” 

“N-” Thor stops himself before the word forms on instinct. Loki's brought up three ways before and this time Thor tries a different answer. “What happens when you don't want me to join in anymore?” The words sound foreign on his tongue, and yet familiar. Reckless.

“It ends, like every other relationship.”

“But unlike every other relationship you get bored of people. Very quickly I'm imagining, based on how you're going after something you know isn't real.”

“I can't promise anything, and I won't,” Loki says, eyes softening wistfully, “but I've already kept you around much longer than everyone else.”

“How long is it usually?”

“On average,” Loki pauses to pretend he's thinking, draw out the process, “five hours I suppose.”

“Five hours?” Thor repeats back in surprise. 

Loki stares at him, no further explanation given. No attempt to take it back and replace what might be the truth with a kinder lie. There is always the possibility that five hours is already a lie. 

“Why have I lasted so long?” Thor asks warily.

“You were interesting.”

“Explain it,” he demands, but it's too far. 

“I'm not going to make you feel safe Thor, tell you how special you are,” Loki says as he rises from the chair. 

Loki downs the rest of his coffee and leaves the mug in the dishwasher. The conversation is over with that. Or it should be. 

“I probably should go in to the shop,” Loki says with his terse smile reserved for what Thor realizes is actual annoyance, “weekends are busy.” He repeats the same logic that he used to not go in earlier, the same words for different purposes. 

Loki walks to the front door. He left nothing behind to collect before he goes. He didn't even have a jacket. Thor follows him to the door, unable to stop himself from tracking Loki's movements, but there's a weight in him as he does so. 

“You are welcome to join in any time you want,” Loki says. Thor doesn't trust himself to respond, only nodding. 

Loki breaks the silence between them. “And if there's no one else you have me all to yourself.”

“And what if they don't want me to join in?” Thor says, emptying out the last of his reservations. The questions that might just let him say this is ridiculous I won't do it, or perhaps get rid of all the reasons why he won't.

“Then I get you all to myself.” Loki smirks knowingly. It's not supposed to feel safe, Loki refused to allow him this, and yet he offers it up all the same. 

Thor kisses Loki goodbye in the doorway. Sees him off to his job like a dutiful housewife from some 50s sitcom, the comparison laughable because nothing is the same. Thor wouldn't want it to be. 

He lingers long after Loki's footsteps have faded and this time he's really nowhere to be seen, only a memory of words and half formed gestures. Promises that mean nothing. A relationship that will be gone the second Loki loses interest, but it's a relationship and Thor knows if he wants it, it's his.


	11. Old Routines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is referencing Judith Butler's book Giving an Account of Oneself, which was inevitable (and will probably happen again) because it was the inspiration for this fic.
> 
> Finally made some solid plans about where this is going. It will be ending in the next few chapters, but I will be immediately starting the sequel as soon as that happens (I'm just splitting the fic up into two parts because the second one will have a slightly different feel). 
> 
> Missed you all <3

It's the last day, the final twenty-four hours before Thor's classes begin, and Loki's already gone. 

Thor stares at the empty doorway as if something might change, not yet resigned to a new routine he's been avoiding since moving to town. It will come anyways though. No matter how many distractions Thor has used to hide the truth, everything was a lead up to tomorrow. His eyes linger on the coffee mug Loki drank from. 

Everything is traces of Loki. He is stranded in bits and pieces of a person he has no one to talk to about. He seems less real that way. Thor flexes his fingers at the once familiar tingling in them, only this time it's not for the rush of the game. There is no one to tackle. No way to score. He opens and closes his hands into fists. He exhales sharply, shattering the silence of his living room. 

Thor picks up his cellphone from where he tossed it on the floor upon waking up. He skips past the message from Fandral. One step at a time. 

'Yes, still want to hang out,' he texts Sif. 'When?'

-

Sif was there when Loki said he owned a coffee shop, but she asks to meet Thor for coffee at a hole in the wall he's never heard of before. The meaning bristles uncomfortably underneath Thor's skin. Is it to get him on neutral ground? To spite him? The latter is not like Sif, but then, nothing has been the same since Thor's come to town. Why shouldn't she change, just like everything else?

Guilty from even thinking such a thing, Thor arrives early and buys coffee for the both of them. He bunkers down in an out of the way table to wait. 

Thor glances around the coffee shop, killing the time that grates on him. His heart is pounding, adrenaline spiking, and again he has nothing to do with the excess energy. 

Natural light filters in through the windows and it splays in patterns across the grey walls. Abstract paintings take up every nook and cranny of the coffee shop, crowded like a hoarder hung them with a sentiment for lost objects rather than propriety. Thor already misses the zine print outs that don't make sense. The two year old star chart on the ceiling of Loki's 'Starbucks,' even if it's worthless. Maybe Thor misses it exactly because he thinks it's worthless and he knows Loki wouldn't agree. It's a mystery why though. A mystery Thor feels drawn to solving. Is that what Loki meant by the word invitation, when he said it what seems like so long ago? Thor gets lost in the fragments of conversations he replays again and again in his mind. 

“Those are ridiculous,” Sif says dismissively as she slides into the seat across from Thor, effortlessly catching how his eyes linger on the paintings. 

“Yeah, too much red,” Thor replies offhandedly. Sif levels him with a strange look. 

Thor slides a coffee across the table to Sif. She takes the peace offering with a stiff smile, but doesn't spare him the violence. “What's going on?”

Thor opens his mouth and closes it, smiling wryly in return. “I don't know,” he admits. 

“I've never heard you say that.” Sif frowns. 

“Don't like my new humility?” It would be so easy to direct his pent up energy at her, but Sif is his friend. One of his best friends. He manages to keep his voice even and careful. 

“I don't like where you got it. I don't trust him.”

“Well it's a good thing you're not trying to sleep with him then,” Thor jokes, but it's the wrong audience, and Sif searches his face. 

“Is that what you're doing?”

“No,” Thor admits. “If that's what I wanted... I'm sure I'd have it. Fuck, I think Loki would enjoy it if that's all I wanted.”

“What do you want?” Sif's expression softens, even while it's clear she doesn't approve. 

“I want to be able to kiss him in the morning, cuddle with him on the couch, feel my heart flutter when we lock eyes across a room...” Thor trails off. Every item on his list is something he already has. 

“Do you think you can have that with him?”

“Maybe.” The uncertainty in Thor's voice isn't because of Loki this time. 

Thor could have the things he wants now, but what about the rest? Could they make it to the landmark moments he assumed he'd get to, but never stopped to decide if he actually wanted? No fairy tale wedding. No kids. “Maybe,” Thor repeats, softer then. 

“Just don't get hurt,” Sif says firmly. 

“Nothing is safe Sif,” Thor replies, already knowing where those words have come from. They sound right on his tongue. 

“I guess not. You always did take risks.” She doesn't get it, and yet she does in her own way. It's a comfortable contradiction Thor can live with. There is no room for anything else. Thor nods at her with a smile.

“How is Fandral?” Thor dares to ask. 

“Moping. He'll get over it,” Sif says with a shrug. She takes a sip of the coffee Thor passed her when she sat down, finally ready to accept the peace offering. 

“I should have said something earlier and not just left with Loki last night.” Thor frowns. He takes a sip of his own coffee. It's off, not because of the taste, but it just is. 

Sif waves him off. “Anything you could have said would have hurt. I could have said something too. I didn't. It was just all bad.”

Thor's eyebrows furrow at the word 'bad.' Can things really be bad? He doesn't voice the thought. It simmers inside of him like so many things he no longer says out loud. Thoughts that turn inwards and repeat on loop. Stories just for himself. Until he sees Loki later. 

“How long are you all staying in town for? We should hang out under better circumstances,” Thor says, setting up the do-over he desperately wants. 

“Volstagg couldn't take off work so he's driving back today. I think Hogun wants to stay for at least another day or two, but we only booked the hotel until tonight.” 

“Stay at my place,” Thor blurts out, an old habit that leaves him ever ready to help his friends in a pinch. 

“Are you sure? Can your place actually fit all of us?”

“The couch can fit two.” Thor doesn't say how he knows this. “Hogun and Fandral have bunked together before.” Sleeping next to Fandral would bring Loki's fantasies too close for comfort. “I'll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

“You have been away for far too long.” Sif rolls her eyes.

“What?” Thor's eyebrows shoot up and his face is full of concern. He can't figure out where he went wrong.

“You know I'm not the girl of the group, the one you have to pamper,” she snaps, but the bite isn't in her voice.

“Of course,” Thor stammers with a grin. “Right. Well, we'll figure something out. Anyways, my apartment is open to all of you and I hope you stay for as long as you like.” The grin turns into a wide smile.

“If you're sure-”

“I am,” Thor interrupts Sif with a firm nod. 

“Then we'll be by later tonight.” She smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. “I missed you. I was starting to get afraid that you'd run so far away from your old life...” Sif trails off.

“I missed you too,” Thor says, smiling softly as he reaches out to affectionately pat Sif on the arm.

Sif catches Thor up on 'back home' while they casually sip at their coffees. Sif ran on the old track by the high school the night before the road trip. They still play football in the park. “I miss our quarterback. I'm sure the other team doesn't,” Sif says with a laugh. Her words carefully skirt around the absence, acknowledging its presence without lingering for too long. 

The conversation eventually lulls, comfortably simmering until Sif gets up to give Thor a hug. “Goodbye my friend,” he says, lips mumbling against the darkness of her hair. 

Sif heads back to her hotel room to pack. Thor watches her retreating form turn the corner and disappear from sight. His finger flicks over the rim of his coffee cup, wearing a hole in the paper. 

Thor tosses his coffee in the nearest garbage. The liquid sloshes in the bag on the way down.

-

The track outside the gym is easy to find, even though Thor has never been there before. It looks exactly like the pictures from the university brochures he flipped through last year. It's his first steps onto university property. Back into an old routine before he is ready to dive into the new one. The track is in the shape of an elongated zero and flanked by bleachers Thor confidently leaves his water bottle on. He's assured in his faith in humanity, but not enough to leave his phone as well. That sits as a heavy weight in the front pocket of his shorts, made bearable by the headphones he attaches to it. 

Thor stretches slowly, searching out the limits of his body and lingering on the edge. He touches his toes and smiles at the familiar strain in his back. Faint but noticeable. He presses further, wrapping his fingers around his big toes, and exhales sharply with a hazy smile. 

The first lap around the track is slow. The gym tag tied to Thor's sneakers flicks back and forth across his toes, clicking when he runs. He breathes in and out evenly, setting up a rhythm he can maintain for the rest of the run. He sprints on the second lap and doesn't stop. 

Thor's feet soar across the track in time with the music, edged on by the frantic beat. His heart pounds like a living organism separate from his body. He can feel it alive in his chest, dominating his attention, until all of his thoughts are gone, and there is nothing but the pleasurable drive Thor throws his body into.

He misses the chirp of his cell announcing a text message.

On the seventh lap he misses another. 

Thor's golden skin glints with sweat, trickling down his forehead and collecting at the base of his neck. His skin feels loose and easy. Underneath it he's free. There is nothing but the running. It's just the track stretching ahead of him now, looping around and around into infinity. 

Eventually he slows, but not because he has to. Thor's body is flush in a state of exertion, light and heady, giddy on the endorphins. The phone rings just as his pace is at a light jog and he can finally hear it over the music and his footfall.

Thor grasps at his phone in his pocket, answering the call without thinking. He blinks the sweat out of his eyes. Fighting to catch his breath, he pants into the phone for the first few seconds. 

“Yeah?” Thor eventually gets out. 

“Mmmm,” Loki purrs into the line. Thor can already tell it's him by the way he moans out the sound, the laughter prickling the edges of an erotic response he doesn't mean but would take all the way to the end just to find out what that end is. “I was worried when you didn't reply to my texts, but I can see you're busy.” 

“Sorry, didn't hear.” Thor talks in breathy exhales as his jog declines to a fast walk. His feet move forward automatically, too worn into the rhythm to do anything else. 

“So, who is it?” Thor can hear the wide grin Loki must be wearing when he talks. 

“What?” he pants back. 

“Who are you fucking?” Loki's voice falls flat, the pretence of annoyance at having to explain himself, but he's too worked up to play it right. He still sounds excited. Even pleased. 

“No one,” Thor says back too quickly. 

“Don't lie Thor. I don't care,” Loki chides. He tuts for effect. “Actually I do. Where are you? I want to come watch.” 

“I'm at the track by the university.” 

“Mmm, under the bleachers? Or somewhere else?” Loki trails out the words suggestively. 

“I'm really not fucking anyone,” Thor says back, a little harshly as he's still panting.

“Oh.” Loki sounds disappointed. 

“I know I can... I just don't want to fuck anyone else. Not right now,” Thor adds hurriedly, not sure how he got into this conversation. The rush of the run is wearing off. Now his body just hurts and his head is certainly about to as well. 

“When then?” Loki's voice is careful and flat. 

“Soon. I don't know, but I think I'm okay with it, so soon I guess.” Thor hesitates on the truth. It's certainly not convincing. 

“Alright. Stay there,” Loki says, voice too faint for Thor to register the words as the order they are. 

“And that's okay, that I don't know?” 

“If you did know I wouldn't believe you.” Loki laughs. 

“Because you think you can't really know someone, so you can't really know yourself either,” Thor tries, drawing out the words he remembers from a mind that is about ready to quit. He sits down on the bleachers and takes a swig from his water bottle. The water sloshes down his shirt and he impatiently tugs it off over his head. 

“Exactly. You can talk about yourself, but you're just enacting yourself, you're not explaining yourself.” Thor can hear the sound of Loki's shoes hitting the pavement as he walks, presumably to the track.

“Why?” Thor says, not bothered by the potential ignorance of the question. Loki sees right through him anyways. Loki laughs gently in his ear through the phone.

“Because we are opaque. I have free will, I can decide things yes, yes, but I also consist of social norms that precede me.”

“Opaque, as in an object you can't see through... so I can't see through myself, to properly explain myself, because I don't even know what's there. I can't see all the social norms clearly.” Thor works it out slowly, urged on by the little 'mhm' sounds Loki mutters now and then. 

“Fuck,” Loki mutters, probably dropping the phone and catching it quickly before it hits the ground. 

“What?”

“Change of plans. Meet me at your place,” Loki says curtly. 

“That's probably not a good idea, Sif and. everyone else will be... Loki? Loki, are you still there?” All Thor hears is the dial tone because Loki has already hung up.


	12. Opaque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to cut off earlier but I felt bad leading this story in circles for my own enjoyment without 'relieving' any of the pressure. ;) Hope you enjoy! <3

The dial tone drones in Thor's ear. He hangs up and immediately calls Loki back. Habit more than hope strings him along. 

Thor listens to the incessant ringing while waiting for Loki to pick up. A break between the rings seems longer than the last, perhaps Loki has answered, but the monotony plays with him and the next ring drones perfectly in synch with the last. 

Loki must not have an answering machine. Has he silenced the ringing or is he staring at Thor's name on his screen and laughing? Thor hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. 

It's obvious what Thor should do and that's exactly why he hesitates. He's been led into a corner with only one way out. 

Thor grits his teeth, but he gives in, tugs his shirt back on, and heads home. It's not Loki he gives in to though; it's only convenient that their desires align. It's the half memories that get Thor going. The feel of his dick in his own hands while he masturbated with Loki on the other side of the bathroom door. Past events are poisoned by the weight of 'what ifs' and 'could have beens'. Thor shivers, his muscles cooling down minutes after the run, and the water and sweat slick on his skin. 

He has never known surrender. This self-sabotage is something else entirely. Thor clenches and unclenches his fists, chasing after the afterglow of the adrenaline rush. He's been drowning in meaning made by another, waiting for the life jacket that never comes. 

Thor's lost track of the experiences he's passed by because he couldn't figure them out from the sidelines. That's the crux of it though. It's such a deadly and yet fragile detail, the thing Loki's been telling him all along: Thor's waiting until he figures it out, but he can't. It simply can't be done. Everything is _opaque_. He will fail, so how does he want to go about it? 

-

Loki's pacing in the hallway outside Thor's apartment. He's still wearing the same clothes from last night. The smudged eyeliner around his acid green eyes is rough and grungy, dark holes in the shadows that pool on a pale face full of sharp angles. There are no signs of how Loki got past the building door. He leaves Thor no opportunity to ask. 

Loki's pupils dilate upon seeing Thor and he practically pounces on him. He is all fingers and teeth, biting at Thor's mouth more than kissing, and yanking at the hem of Thor's shirt insistently. When he can't get the shirt over Thor's arms Loki's fingers race down Thor's exposed abs. His nails catch in every indentation and drag. Loki's tongue is soon to follow. Dropping to his knees, Loki licks a line down Thor's stomach. 

Thor grabs Loki's hands at the sound of his zipper being undone. Loki rubs his face into Thor's crotch. That petty laughter trickles from his lips and Thor doesn't have to see his face to know he's grinning. Loki mouths at the bulge of Thor's dick that tents up his jeans. 

“Fuck, Loki, not here,” Thor pants, not missing the other man's unusual eagerness. He shouldn't trust it, but Thor finds he doesn't quite care. 

Loki struggles to pull his hands free and fails. Thor's holding him tightly by his wrists and doesn't budge. “Has to be here,” Loki says, laughing, probably to himself. 

“Inside. Inside and we'll do whatever you want,” Thor bargains. He closes his eyes as Loki mouths at his penis again through the thick jean and his underwear. Thor can feel Loki's saliva dampening the material. 

“Mmm, fine,” Loki purrs. Thor lets him go to unlock his front door. He can hear Loki shuffling, not standing, but he doesn't turn around to look. Thor fumbles with his keys and opens the door. He doesn't do it fast enough. Nothing could be fast enough. 

Thor shoves through the front door. Loki isn't following. Thor whirls around to find Loki sprawled out on his back of the hallway floor like its a motel bed, legs spread lewdly, eyes half lidded. 

Loki dips his own index finger into his mouth as Thor stares, taking it in to his knuckle and hollowing his cheeks. Everything with Loki is a gesture layered in something else. He repeats the past, fucking his fingers in the 'Starbucks,' trying to blow Thor in an inappropriate place, just for the unsettling monotony. Broken gestures of things that never happened, all building up to a future that is spread out before Thor in temptation. 

“Inside?” Thor's voice cracks. “Please?” he adds, for good measure. Rightly so. Loki's lips split into a smirk around his finger. 

Loki stands, all shadows and liquid grace, and pats Thor on the shoulder as he walks past him into the apartment. “Good boy,” Loki purrs. 

Thor grabs his wrist, returning the smirk with his own reckless grin. “Nothing is good Loki,” Thor says, watching the other's eyes. Loki visibly shudders and Thor's certain this was why he'd dropped the phone earlier. Maybe it's not sexual attraction, but it's something when he expected nothing at all. In his dirtiest dreams Thor has only imagined Loki's bored, drawling, chiding voice while he fucked into him, trying to fuck away that impossible indifference. This is something else entirely.

Thor grabs Loki's hair, pulling enough so that he knows the other feels the pain, and increasing the pressure when Loki doesn't protest. With one hand in Loki's hair and the other around his wrist Thor easily backs him into the wall by the door, trapping Loki there. Thor closes the front door with his foot. 

“Want a safe word?” Loki asks, ignoring that he is the one being pinned. 

Thor laughs breathlessly, staring into Loki's eyes with confused wonder. “Are you a power bottom?” Thor asks, more so because he wants to hear what Loki says, rather than caring for the answer. A push to get a reaction. Anything at all. They haven't fucked and Loki's already deep inside. “Should I be worried?” Thor says, for the thrill of it. He's not. The sub always has the last word, and no matter who's on top now, Thor realizes that's what he is to Loki. 

“I'll take good care of your darling,” Loki purrs, his daggered smile contradicting his words. “But I don't want to break you by mistake.” 

“And what about on purpose?” Thor tugs Loki's hair at the end of his sentence. Loki leans away from Thor's hand, increasing the pressure, and his smirk turns into a pleasured wince. 

“Only if you like it,” Loki replies, words a little sloppy. He shifts under Thor's grip, his hips moving forward, but Thor's standing far enough away that friction is impossible. It's unclear if Loki does it for the illusion of the action or if he's actually seeking out the pleasure. 

“I want a safe word,” Thor says. “Hrm, what should it be?” He drags out the words, not missing as Loki continues to shift his weight in small increments. He tests the resilience of Thor's fingers. Thor laughs in spite of himself, realizing Loki is letting him see his resistance. It's an act layered upon an act. All smoke and mirrors and none of it is probably real. “My safe world will be Starbucks,” Thor grins. “You want one?”

“Mine will be the same,” Loki grins back defiantly. Barely a breath passes between them before Loki snaps, “shirt off, now,” in an entirely different tone. 

Thor releases Loki to tug his own shirt off and tosses it on the floor. Loki slips out of his pants just as quickly, which is remarkable, considering they look like they've been painted on. Somehow Loki's converse were taken off in the process as well. All those laces. Thor's staring at them as Loki hooks a finger through a belt loop on Thor's jeans and tugs teasingly. 

Thor tries to lead Loki to the bedroom without being obvious about it, turning around so they're heading in that direction, but Loki won't have any of it and they move towards the kitchen. Loki hops up on Thor's kitchen table and gestures at Thor to follow. 

“We're going to break the table,” Thor says with an exasperated laugh. 

Loki arches that single eyebrow, as if to say 'and' without parting his lips. 

“Somewhere else,” Thor says with a smile. 

Loki rolls his eyes in exasperation, but it's a halfhearted gesture, the arrogance cracking to reveal he's more bemused than annoyed. Why wouldn't someone want to fuck on the kitchen table? 

They end up with Thor pressed against the kitchen window, blinds up. Even though it's worse than everything else, his naked ass visible to his whole street once his jeans come down, Thor's dick is aching in his pants and he's had enough with the interruptions that he'll give in to just about anything. Perhaps that was the plan all along. 

It's Thor who gets on his knees first, dragging down Loki's boxers until his dick springs free. He's half hard, which is more than the nothing Thor expected to find. Without preamble Thor takes Loki's penis in his mouth, all the way to the end, and pulling out slowly to slick the other man's dick with his saliva . Loki's hips shift forward, pushing Thor's naked back into the window. 

“Nghhh,” Loki stammers, in a whisper, so soft it's almost as if he didn't mean to say it. 

Thor pauses at the tip of Loki's penis. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, lips brushing against the sensitive head with every word. 

“Butler,” Loki says. Thor's rhythm falters. “She's the one that talks about the opaque theory.” 

In apology for his reaction Thor takes Loki's dick past his lips again, pumping it with his mouth, once, twice, and pulling back. He can feel Loki's whole body shivering. 

“What else does she theorize about?” Thor prompts before taking Loki in his mouth again. If this is what the other man gets off to he's not going to judge. 

“Gender... performativity,” Loki says between each time Thor tightens his lips around Loki's penis and releases, no longer entirely letting him go. 

Thor's hands wander up to cup Loki's ass from behind. Loki lets out an appreciative whine and places his palms against the window Thor's back is against, caging Thor in. Loki should be able to see outside, if his eyes are open, which they probably are. 

“Are... you sure... you don't want... me to do... this... to you?” Loki says, words cut off in time with Thor pushing on Loki's ass to thrust Loki's penis into Thor's mouth. 

“Positive,” Thor says, pulling back just enough to speak. “Go on.” 

“And queer theory,” Loki laughs, as it's fitting, considering what they're doing. “But... I like her theory... of opaqueness... best.” Loki takes in a deep breath and Thor can feel his body relaxing against his hands. “We are all shaped by social norms but we don't even know what those norms are,” Loki says, growing used to the rhythm of the thrusts and no longer stalled by them. “It's so futile to try and explain ourselves. We can't,” Loki says, slipping his hand under Thor's jaw and stopping him, but Thor doesn't let go of his penis, still holding it between his red lips. 

Loki tilts his fingers up to force Thor to stare into his eyes. “We're doomed to fail, but we try anyways,” Loki says. He moves his hand from Thor's jaw to brush back Thor's blonde hair. “Humans don't surrender and I find that so beautiful. So endearingly stupid,” Loki says, smiling sadly when he speaks. 

“Some do,” Thor says, speaking carefully so as to neither release Loki's dick nor bite him. 

“I know. And some don't,” Loki says affectionately.

Loki brings his hand down to pull his hard dick out of Thor's mouth and kneels in front of him so that they are eye to eye. Loki kisses Thor chastely with the faintest brush of lips. 

Thor parts his lips, hand sliding around Loki's neck, and barely manages not to bite Loki's tongue, which is licking the inside of Thor's mouth, when Thor hears a knock at the door. 

There's a knock, Sif calling out his name through the wood, and then the front door creaks open because Thor forgot to lock it and Loki didn't tell him.


	13. Circles

In his haste to get out of the hallway Thor had kicked the front door closed. It's immediately apparent to everyone involved that he hadn't done so efficiently.

“No, don't come-” Thor calls out uselessly. Sif is already in the doorway. Her eyes go wide but it takes only the span of a single heartbeat for her to shift from shocked to blocking the door with her body and not letting anyone else inside. 

Thor can hear muffled complaints from behind her, “what's going on Sif,” “bloody move already,” but Sif's resolute. Commendably resolute for the circumsytances. Loki stands up and turns around to face the door without bothering to pull his boxers up. Sif gets an eyeful of his penis before redirecting her gaze with a terse frown. “You didn't specify a time,” she mutters. 

“Right, sorry,” Thor replies. He runs his hand awkwardly back through his hair but can't quite erase the smile from his face. 

“Did I get in the way of a scheduled date?” Loki asks casually. Thor can hear the weight of the smirk in his voice even if he can't see it. He can see Loki's ass though and it's just as distracting when he's not wearing pants as when he's in them. 

“Not in the way you're implying. Boxers up?” Thor's voice rises at the end to indicate the request. Loki's pants are across the room in a pile with Thor's shirt. The best they can manage is Loki not flashing Fandral and Hogun when they eventually do get inside. 

“What is he implying?” Sif asks guardedly. 

“What is going - ow! Sif!” Fandral starts, voice breaking off as he gets shoved, probably in the ribs, when he unsuccessfully tries to push past Sif. 

Loki shrugs and pulls his boxers up. He skips the slow and teasing show Thor expected, moving briskly and efficiently instead. “Everyone's decent. You can come in now gentlemen,” Loki calls out casually. 

“Not really,” Sif mutters, but after a nod from Thor, and a roll of her eyes, she steps aside. 

Fandral takes it surprisingly well. His eyes keep finding their way back to the half hard bulge in Loki's boxers, and everyone is painfully aware of it, but he takes it well. “Oh,” is all he says, followed by a nod with tense lips. 

“Oh,” Loki repeats, matching the inflection perfectly. 

“Going to put this in your room, if that's okay,” Hogun says curtly, face blank, as he walks into the apartment and past the group. 

“Yeah, alright,” Thor says, voice trailing off when he notices Loki's head turn to adjust his gaze to track Hogun move from the living room to the hallway beyond. 

Thor takes a step towards Loki and slips a hand around his waist. As expected, Sif and Fandral are also suddenly interested in putting their bags away as well. They leave the room without comment. 

“Don't fuck with my friends in any sense of the word,” Thor whispers into Loki's hair. His fingers play with the soft fabric on the waistband of Loki's boxers. “Please,” Thor adds for good measure. 

Loki leans into his touch. “Or what?” he whispers back, voice breathy and uneven. 

Thor's other hand slips into Loki's black hair. He pulls Loki's head back so he's forced to stare into Thor's eyes. Loki's pupils are still dilated and his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. “Or I'll find you and fuck with you,” Thor tries. His voice is unlike the uncertainty he feels, hard and rough instead. 

Loki's Adam's apple bobs, strained against the tight skin of his throat. “You more loyal to them than you are to me?” he whispers with a smile. 

Thor doesn't know the answer, but, luckily for him, Loki probably doesn't want the truth. He can hold off on the introspection for now. “Yes,” Thor replies without skipping a beat. “What would it mean if I told you to be good?” Thor says, tugging on Loki's hair. Thor relishes in the lazy and pleasure filled wince that streaks across Loki's face. 

“Nothing,” Loki smiles.

“Explain,” Thor demands, playing the game he suspects Loki enjoys. 

Thor walks around so that he is in front of Loki, hand remaining fisted in Loki's hair. Thor can feel Loki's dick is still hard as it presses against his thigh. He must be doing something right. Thor resists the urge to order Loki on his knees. Any minute now everyone is going to come out of the bedroom. Loki should have his pants on by then, shouldn't he?

“The idea of goodness is interwoven with social class. Good is what the nobles or aristocracy do. Bad is what the common plebeians do,” Loki purrs. 

“Who wrote that?”

“Nietzsche.” 

Thor snorts, a show of arrogance that slides perfectly over his skin a little too snugly. “Do you ever say anything original?”

“No. I think in borrowed thoughts from everyone else,” Loki says, using his hand to lightly pull Thor's own out of his hair. Thor lets him. “But so does everyone else,” Loki laughs. He walks to the other end of the room and pulls his pants back on. 

There's a muffled conversation going on at the other end of the apartment. Thor can barely hear it through the door. Loki must have noticed it before him. 

“Isn't it funny then, that even when we use the same words, seem to think the same ideas, we keep going around in circles without realizing we don't really understand each other?” Loki says. 

“You can come back in!” Thor calls out to his friends. They'll distract him from getting on his knees himself. From fucking Loki on the table. Their impending presence can't quell his thoughts though. 

Thor shakes his head and smiles softly at Loki. “Maybe it's you that leads everyone in circles,” he says as Sif, Hogun, and Fandral trail back into the living room, pointedly not looking at Loki on the off chance he's still not entirely clothed. 

“That's a comforting thought,” Loki smiles grimly at Thor. “Would you like me to let you keep it?”

“No,” Thor admits. 

\- 

Sif, Fandral, and Hogun flick through Netflix. It's taken them five minutes to find a genre everyone agrees to. Adventure. Which adventure in particular? Movie or tv show? They'll be preoccupied for a while. Thor leads Loki into the kitchen by his elbow.

“How do you do it?” Thor asks as he puts the popcorn bag into the microwave.

“Do what?” Loki replies without looking at him, nose deep in Thor's cupboards as he searches for a replacement to the butter they won't be melting. 

“How do you...” Thor trails off, frowning as the words escape him, none of them quite right for the situation at hand. He speaks anyways. “How do you go on, knowing nothing is really real, and thinking you can't do anything good?”

Loki closes the cupboard and opens another one. He's in Thor's barely used baking supplies. “You mean, how do I exist in the cracks between meaning?”

“Yeah,” Thor says slowly. Loki's probably thought about this before. He's probably come at the question from every angle, analyzed it to death, and made research notes on the funeral rituals. 

Loki grins, an actual grin, teeth baring with little wrinkles indenting around his acid green eyes, as he pulls a bag of nutritional yeast out of Thor's baking supplies. The microwave beeps and he takes out the bag of popcorn, pouring a few tablespoons of nutritional yeast on the top. 

“Want me to show you?” Loki says, finally turning around to regard Thor. 

“How?”

“You could read the theory, but what does that really do?” Loki muses, shaking the bag of microwave popcorn casually while he talks. “I prefer to apply theoretical concepts to the every day situations I'm already in and see what happens.”

“Like thinking about Butler while you're getting a blow job,” Thor says with a laugh. 

“Exactly. Does her idea of gender performativity still work when you're coming?” Loki places the bag of popcorn on the kitchen counter. He takes a predatory step towards Thor, moving so gracefully he's stalking him, pinning him, without much effort. Loki's fingers tuck into the belt loops of Thor's jeans. “When you're fucking me so hard I can't even remember my own name, what do I really know about myself?” Loki whispers with a dangerous smile. 

“Yes, show me,” Thor says, face leaning in to Loki in spite of himself. He clears his throat. “After the movie.” 

“Of course,” Loki purrs, the smile on his face jarring with the words that leave his lips. “I'm not supposed to be fucking with your friends.”

Loki unhooks his fingers from Thor's belt loops. He picks up the popcorn bag and walks towards the couch. 

Somehow, probably by Fandral's design, Loki ends up sitting between Fandral and Sif. She shifts to move, but Thor stops her and sits down on her other side. “It's okay,” Thor says, smiling earnestly. Sif searches Thor's face and says nothing. 

Thor turns to look at the television screen without much effort. It's not that he trusts Loki - the opposite in fact. If Loki does fuck up, well he's accepted that, and maybe, just maybe, it's not really fucking up to begin with. 

The opening credits play and Thor settles against the couch, absent mindedly munching on the popcorn passed between them, slipping into old routines with a slight revision. Loki puts his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers idly stroking the tips of Thor's hair. Thor angles his head so Loki's fingertips can reach the back of his neck. Loki must be leaning into Fandral to be able to reach. Thor laughs at the thought. It's not good, but Thor's never been one to surrender just because things don't go according to plan. In the end though, it certainly was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm more proud or ashamed that I managed to reference the title of my fic in its conclusion. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Thank you also for all of the comments and support I received while writing this fic. I'm proud of myself that I stuck to my interests and wrote the fic that I wanted to read. On the off chance it wasn't clear, Loki is written to be asexual. It's great other people seemed to enjoy reading this fic as well. 
> 
> As you can see this work is part of a series and I will begin working on part 2 immediately! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at cantheysuffer if you want to chat about anything related to this fic or the fandom. xoxo


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